THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


\\  .  ,  i    ,v    J'<  -  «  Standard    N. 


MISTRESS  AO  MAID. 


mt 


T  /fBfe 


BY  MISS  JvIULOCH, 


1.'    Fi       U: 


John  Halifax,  Greiitiemaiv,"  "The  Ogilviei 
"Head  of  the  Family;"  "Nothing-  3tfe<%  : 
"Ak'atha'a.Husband,"'   &c\{  Szc.^  &H. 


RiniM'jN'D: 
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1-1  f,   \faii]   Street. 

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S  |*0ttWhflM  $tM]>, 


B"y  IMIISS  MXJLOOH, 

AUTHOR  OF 

"JOHN  HALIFAX,  GENTLEMAN,''  -OLIVE,"  "THE  OGILVIES," 

•THE  HEAD  OF  THE  FAMILY,"  "NOTHING  NEW," 

"AGATHA'S  HUSBAND."  &c„  &c. 


RICHMOND  i 


WEST  &  JOHNSTON,   PUBLISHERS. 

1864. 


Printed  at  tha  Lynchburg  "Virginian"  Book  and  Job  Office. 


. 


» 


w  r 


nry.  Univ*  of 
H)  Carolina 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


CHAPTER    I.  ding,  to  iron  a  3hirt ;  and,  moreover,  to  reflect. 

las  she  woke  up  to  the  knowedge  of  how  these 
She  was  a  rather  tall,  awkward,  and  strong-  things  should  tie  done,  and  how  necessary  they 
i  -built  girl  of  about  fifteen.  This  was  tht  first  [were,  what  must  have  been  her  eldest  -'.-tor'-. 
impression  the  "maid''  jraveto  her  "  mistres-  lot  during  all  these  twenty  years  '  Whatpainsj 
ios,  "  the  M'sses  Leaf,  when  she  entered  their  what  weariness,  what  eternal  toil  must  Johan- 
kitehen,  accompanied  by  her  mother,  a  widow  na  have  silently  endured  in  order  to  do  ai> 
and  washer-woman,  by  name  Mrs.  Hand.  I  ithose  things  which  till  now  had  seemed  to  dr. 
must  confess,  when  they  saw  the  damsel,  the'themselves! 

ladies  felt  a  eertain  twinge  of  doubt  as-toj  Therefore,  after  much  cogitation  as  to  the 
whether  they  had  not  been  rash  in  offering  to  bes'fcand  most  prudent,  wav  to  amend  matter.-. 
take  her;  whether  it  would  nochave  been  wi.^r  am]  perceiving  wifcb  her  clear  common  sense 
to  have  gone  on  in  their  old  way— now,  alas  :t]iatt  wj]]jhg  as  she  might  be  to  work  in  the 
grown  into  a  very  old  way,  so  as  almost  tokhchen,  her  own  time  would  be  much  more 
make  them  forget  they  had  ever  had  any  otherivaiuabiy  ppent  ;n  teachingtheirgrowingschool, 
—and  done  without  a  servant  still.  It  was  ft  j]arv  who  these  Christmas  holidavs. 

Many  consultations  had  the  three  Bisters  grat  started  the  bold  idea,  "  We  must  have  a 
held  before  such  a  revolutionary  extravagance  servant ;"  and  therefore,  it  being  necessarv  to 
was  determined  on.  But  Miss  Leaf  was  be  begin  with  a  very  small  servant  on  very 'low 
-inning  both  to  lookand  to  feel  '•  not  so  voung  .va^eP>  (£3  per  annum  was.  I  fear  the  maxi- 
as  she  had  been:"  Miss  Selina  ditto:  though, 
being  still  under  forty,  she  would  not  have  ac- 
knowledged it  for  the  world.  And  Miss  Hilary, 
young,  bright,  and  active  as  she  was,  could  by 
no  possibility  do  every  thing  that  was  to  be  done 
In  the  little  establishment  :  be,  for  instance,  in 
three  places  at  once — in  the  school-room, 
leaching  Httle  boys  and  girls,  in  the  kitchen 


vages,  (to  per 

jinim),  did  they  take  this  Elizabeth  Hand. 
So,  hanging  behind  her  parent,  an  anxious- 
eyed,  and  rather  bad-voiced  woman,  did  Eliz- 
abeth enter  the  kitchen  of  the  Misses  Leaf. 

The  ladies  were  all  there.  Johanna  arran- 
ging the  table  for  their  early  tea  :  Selina  lying 
on   the  sofa  trying  to  cut  bread  and  butter; 

Hilary  on  rfer  knees  before  the  fire,  making 


cooking  dinner,  and  in  the  room3  up  stair?!,])e  bft  of  toast,  her  eldest  sister?  one  mxurv. 
busy  at  house-maid's  work.     Besides,  much!     This  was  the  picture  that  her  three  mistres 

of  her  time  was  spent  in  waiting  upon  "poorlse3    preP,-,nted    to    Elizabeths  eves;    whirl,. 


Selina,''  who  frequently  was,  or  fancied  her 
self,  too  ill  to  take  any  part  in  either  the  schoo' 
r>r  hou«e  duties. 

Though,  the  thing  being  inevitable,  sh( 
?aid  little  about  it.  Miss  Leaf's  heart  \\a> 
often  sore  to  see  Hilary's  pretty  hands  smear 
ed  with  blacking  of  grates,  and  roughened 
with  scouring  of  floors.  To  herself  this  sort  ot 
thing  had  become  natural— but  Hilary  ! 

All 'the   time   of  Hilary's    childhood,    the 

youngest  of  the  family  had.  of  course,  been 

\  spared   all  house-work ;    and   afterward    hei 

studies  had  left  no  time  for  it, ,  For  she  was  a 

■   clevej  girl,  with  a  genuine  love  of  knowledge  : 

«* Latin,  Greek,  and  even  the  higher  branche- 

m  of  arithmetic  and  mathematics,  were  not  be 

1   yond   her  range:  and    this   she  found   much 

*  more  interesting  than  washing  dishes  or  sweep 

ing  floors.     True,  she  always  did  whatever  do 


mestic  duty  she  was  told  to  do;  but  her  bo^tisat  down 


though  they  seemed  to  notice  nothing,  must, 
in  reality,  have  noticed  every  thins;. 

"  I've  brought  my  daughter,  ma'am,  as  you 
-ent  word  you'd  take  on  trial,"  said  Mrs. 
Hand, __  addressing  herself  to  Selina,  who,  as 
the  tallest,  the  best  dressed,  and  the  most  ifl) 
posing,  was  usually  regarded  by  strangers  as 
the  head  of  the  family. 

"Oh.  Joanna,  mv  dear." 

Miss  Leaf  came  forward,  rather  uncertainly , 
for  she  was  of  a  shy  nature,  and  had  been  so 
long  arcup'omed  to  do  the  servant's  work  of 
i ho  housel  old,  that  she  felt  quite  awkward  in 
the  character  of  mistress.  Instinctively  she 
hid  her  poor  hands,  that  would  at  once  have 
betrayed  her  to  the  sharp  eyes  of  the  working- 
woman,  and  then,  ashamed  of'her/nomentary 
ral8e  pride,  laid, them  outside,  her  apron  and 


was  not  in  the  household  line.     She  had  only 
lately  learned  to  "  nee  dust,"  to  make  a  pud- 


"Wiii  vou  take  a  chair,  Mrs.  Hand?     My 
sister  told  you,  I  believe,  all  our  requirements 


4 


Distress  and  maid. 


We  only  want  a  good,  intelligent  girl.     Weareling'only,  "Good,-b>,  Lizabeth,"  with  a  nod, 

willing  to  teach  her  every  thing."  half-encouraging,  half-admonitory,  which  Eli- 

,f Thank  you,  Kindly ;  and  I  be  willing  and  salieth   silently  returned.     That  was  all   the 

glad   for  her   to  learn,    ma'am,"  replied  the  parting  between  mother  and  daughter ;  they 


mother,  her  sharp  and  rather  free  tone  subdued 
in  spite  of  herself  by  the  gentle  voice, of  Hiss 
Leaf.  Of  course,  living  in  the  same  country 
town,  she  knew  all  about  the  three  schoo'-mis- 
tresses,  and  how  till  now  they  had  kept  no 
servant.  "It's  her  firft  place,*  and  hev'll  be 
awk'ard  at  first,  m  Hold 

head,  Lizabeth." 


neither  kissed  nor  shook  hands,  which  unde- 
monstrative farewell  somewhat  surprised  Hil- 
ary. 

Now,  Miss  Hilary  Leaf  had  all  this,  while 
gone  on  toasting.     Luckily  for  her  bread  the 
tire  was  low  and  black;  meantime,  from 
up   pdurlhind  lfer  long  drooping  curls  (which  Johar 

I  would  not  let  her  ''turn  up,"  though  she  was 


"Is  her  name  Elizabeth  '.'"  twenty),  she  was  making  her  observations  or. 

"Fartoo  loftg and  too  fine,"  bbsen       -       a  the  new  servant.     It  might  be  that,  possessing 

from  the  sofa.     "Call  her  Betty."  more  head  than  the  one  and  more  heart  than 


"Any  thing  you  please,  Miss  ;  but  I  call  her 
Lizabeth.  It  wor  my  young  missis's  name  in 
my  first  place,  and  I  never  had  a  second." 

•'  We  will  call  her  Elizabeth,"  said  Miss 
Leaf,  with  the  gentle  decision  she  could  use 
on  occasion. 

There  was  a  little  more  discussion  between 
the  mother  and  the  futui^:  mistress  as  to  hol- 
idays, Sundays,  and  so  on,  during  which  time 
the  new  servant  stood  silent  and  impassive  in 
the  door-way  between  the  back  kitchen  and 
the  kitchen,  or,  as  it  is  called  in  those  regions, 
the  house-place. 

As  before  said,  Elizabeth  was  by  no  means 


the  other,  Hilary  was  gifted  with  deeper  pie 
ception  of  character  than  cither  of  her  sister.-, 
but  certainly  her  expression,  as  she  watched 
Elizabeth,  was  rather  amused 'and  kindly  than 
dissatisfied. 
'  "  Now,  girl,-  take  off  your  bonnet,"  said  Se- 
Iina,  to  whom  Johanna  had  silently  appealed 
in  her  perplexity  as  to  the  next  proceeding 
with  regard  to  the  new  member  of  the  house- 
hold. 

Elizabeth  obeyed,  and  then  stood,  irresolute, 
awkward,  and  wretched  to  the  last  degree,  at 
the  furthest  end  of  the  house-place. 

"Shall  I  show  you  where  to  hang  up  your 


a  personable  girl,  and  her  clothes  did  not  set  thing"?  ?'"  said  Hilary,  speaking  for  the  first 
her  off  to  advantage.  Her  cotton  frock  hung' time  :  and  at  the  new  voice,  so  quick,  cheerful, 
in  straight  lines  down  to  her  ankles,  displaying  and  pleasant,  Elizabeth  visibly. start 
her  clumsily  shod  feet  aind  woolen  stockings ;  Miss  Hilary  rose  from  her  knees,  crossed 
above  it  was  a  pinafore — a  regular  child's  pin-  the  kitchen,  took  from  the  girl's  unresisting 
afore,  of  the  cheap,  strong,  blue-speckled  print  hands  the  old  black  bonnet  and  shawl;  and 
which  in  those  days  Was  generally  worn.  A. lit-  hung  them  up  carefully  on  a  nail  behind  the 
tic  shabby  shawl,  pinned  at  the  throat,  and  pin-  g  lay  clock.     It  was  a  simple  action. 

ned  Very  carelessly  and  crookedly- with  an  old  do:  |tiite  withoutintention,andacceptedwith- 
black  bonnet,  much  too  small  jfor  her  large ioni  acknowledgment,  except  one  quick  glance 
head  and  her  quantities  of  ill  b  at  keen,  yet  soft  grey  eye:  but  years  and 

plet»  -rumc     [tdid  .  -  after  Elizabeth  reminded  Hilary  of  it. 

ably  a  lady  who,  being.  <  gbeen,      And  now  Elizabeth  stood  forth 'in  her  own 

handsome  herself,  was  as  much  alive  ttnproper  likeness,   unconcealed   by    bonnet   or 
appearances  as  the  second  Mjss  Leaf,  awl.  or  maternal  protection.     The  pinafore 

She  made  several  rather  depreciatory  c  iarcely   covered  her  gaunt  neck   and    long 

vations,  and  insisted  strongly  that  the  new  ser-  arms  :  that  tremendous  heal  of  rough,  dusky 
vant  shouli  only  be  taken  "on  trial,"  with'hair  was  evidently  for  the  first  time  gathered 
no  obligation  to  keep  her  a  lay  longer  than. into  a  comb.  Thence  elf-locks  escaped  in  all 
they  wished.  Her  feeling  on  the  matter  com-  directions,  and  were  forever  being  pushed  be- 
municated  itself  to  Johanna,  who  closed  the  hind  her  ears,  or  rubbed  (not*  smoothed  :  there 
negotiation  with  Mrs.  Hand,  by  saying.  was  nothing  smooth  about  her)  back  from  her 

"Well,' let  us  hope  your  daughter  will  suit  forehead,  which,   Hilary   noticed,    was   low, 


us.     We  will  give  he!    •    :  dr     ha         at  all 
events." 

"  Which  is  all    1    can   ax  for,    Mis;-  Leaf. 


broad,  and  full,     The  rest  of  her  face,  except, 
the  before-mentioned  eyes  was  absolutely  and'i 
undeniably  plain.     Her  figure,  so  far  as  the* 


Her  bean't  much  to  look  a',  bat  tier's  willin'lpiuafore  exhibited  it,  was  undeveloped  andJ 
and  sharp,  and  tier's  never  told  me  a  be  in \ ungainly,  the  chest  being  contracted  and  thf-  * 
her  life.  Courtesy  to  thy  ndssie  '  ->ay  sh'otilders  rounded,  as ' if  with  carrying  child-t 
thee'lt  do  thy  best.   Lizabeth."  ren  orother  w<  -  idle  stiil  a  growing  girl . 

Fulled  itorward  did  ephitesy,  but  In  fact,  nature  arid  circumstances  had  appa 

she;  never  offer'  e«*«  imited  in  dealing  unkindly  with  Eli 

fueling  that  fur  ail   pi  iad,beth  '' 


better  be  shortened,  roe  from  her  chair. 


Mr*.  Hfrmi  tookth'  kih(  I  id  departed,  say-;  with  her? 


Still  hei  as ;  and  what  wae  to  be  done 


RBC 


MISTRESS  A^D  MAID. 


«" 


Having  sent  her  with  the  small  burden, 
which  was  apparently  all  her  luggage,  to'the 
little  room — formerly  a  box-closet — where  she 
was  to  sleep,  t lie  Misses  Leaf — or  as  facetious 


"  I  think,   sisters,  we  are   forgetting  tha*. 

the  staircase  is  quite  open,  and  though  I  am 

sure  she  has  an  honest  look  and  not  that  of  a 

listener,  still  Elizabeth  might  hear.     Shall  I 

iighbors   called   them,    the    Miss  Leaves — call  her  down  stairs,  and  tell  her  to  light  a 


took  serious  counsel  together  over  their  tea. 

Tea  itself  suggested  the  first  difficulty.  They 
were  always  in  the  habit  of  taking  that  meal, 
and  indeed  every  other,   in  the  kitchen.     It 


fire  in  the  parlor?" 

Whilesheis  doing  it,  and  in  spite  of  Selina's 
forebodings  to  the  contrary,  the  small  maiden 
did  it  quickly  and  well,  especially  after  a  hint 


saved   time,   trouble,  and  fire,  besides  leaving  or  two  from  Hilary — let  me  take  the  opportu- 


ne parlor  always  tidy  for  callers,  chiefly  pu 
nils'  parents,  and  preventing  these  latter  from 
discovering  tin;1  the  three  orphan  daughters 
of  Henry  Leaf,  Esq.,  solicitor,  and  sisters  of 
Henry  Leaf,  Junior,  Esq.,  also  solicitor,  but 


nity  of  making  a  little  picture  of  this  same  Hi: 
ary. 

Little  it  should  be,  for  she  was  a  decidedly 
little  woman  :  small  altogether,  hands,  feet, 
and  figure   being  in   satisfactory  proportion. 


whose  sole  mission  in  life  seemed  to  havebeenjHer  movements,  like  those  of  most  little  wo- 
to spend  every  thing,  make  every  body  miser-  men>.  wtre  ]jght  and  quick  rather  than  en- 
able, marry,  and  die.  that  these  three  ladies  gant .  yet  every  thing  she  did  was  done  vith  a 
did  always  wait  upon  themselves  at  meal-time, 'neatness  and  delicacy  which  gave  an  involnn- 
and  did  sometimes  breakfast  without  hutter,'tarv  sense  of  grace  and  harmony.  She  was, 
and  djne  without  meat.  Now  thiB  system^  brief,  one  of  those  people  who  aw 
would  not  do  any  longer.  'scribed  bv  the   word  "  harmonious :"    pent-:' 

isides,  there  is  no  need  for  it,"  said       I-  wno  neVer  set  vour  teeth  on  edge,  or  rub 


ary,  cheerfully.  "  I  am  sure  we  can  well 
afford  both  to  keep  and  to  ,feed  a  servant, 
and  to  have  a  fire  in  the  parlor  every  day. 
Why  not  take  our  meals  there,  and  sit  there 
regularly  of  evenings  ?" 

14  We.mu.ft," added Selma;  decidedly.     ''For 
my  pails  I  couidi 
with  that  great 

opposite,  or  standing:  for  how  could  we  ask 
her  to  sit  with  us  ?  Already,  what  must  she 
have  thought  of  us — people  who  take  tea  in 
the  kitchen?" 

"  I  do  not  think  that  matters,"  said  the  el- 
dest sister,  gently,  after  a  moment's*silence. 
"  Every  body  in  the  town  knows  who  and 
what  we  are.  or  might,  if  they  chose  to  in- 
quire. We  cannot  conceal  our  poverty  if  we 
tried  :  and  I  don't  think -any  body  looks  down 
upon  us  for  it.     Not  e'ven  snjpe  we  began  to 


up  the  wrong  way,  as  very  excellent  people 
occasionally  do.  Yet  she  was  not  over-meek 
or  unpleasantly  amiable:  there  was  a  liveli- 
ness and  even  briskness  about  her.  as  if  the 
every  day  wine  of  her  life  had  a  spice  of  Charti- 
pagniness,  not  frothiness  but  riatural  efferves- 


't  eat.  or  sew.  or  do  any  thing  cence  0f  8pjrjtj  meant  to  "  chee  not  ine 

!  girl    sitting  staring  briate"  a  household. 

And  in  her  own  household  this  gift  was 
displayed.  No  centre  of  a  brilliant,  admiring 
circle  could  be  more  charming,'  -more  witty, 
more  irresistibly  amusing  than  was  Hilary 
sitting  by  the  kitchen  fire,  with  the  oat  on  her 
knee,  between  her  two  sisters,  and  the  sell 
boy  Ascoit  Leaf,  their  nephew — which  four 
individuals,  the  cat  being  not  the  least  impor- 
tant of  them,  constituted  the  family. 

In  the  family,  Hilary  shone  supreme.      K. 
keep  school,  which"  vou  Thought,  was  "siicii'a '  recognized  her 'as  the  light  of  the  house,  andso 
terrible  thing,  Selina."  |9;)e  "aa"   been,  ever  since  she  was  born,  ever 

"  And  it  was.     I  have  never  reconciled  my-;smce  "er 
self  to  teaching  the  baker's  two  boys  and  the  -Dving  mother  mild, 

grocer's  little  giri.     You  were  wrong,   J0han-|  gaid,  with  accents  nndefi(e& 

na,  you  ought  to  hare  drawn  the  line  some-  .         'Child,  be  mother  to  this  chHO."-> 

where,  and  it  ought  to  have  excluded  trades- 
people." H  wa8  sai(»  t0  Johanna  Leaf — who  was  no; 
Beggars  can  not  be  choosers.''  began  Hil-  Mrfl-  Leaf's  own  child.  But  the  good  step- 
mother, who  had  once  taken  the  little  mother- 
less girl  to  her  bosom,  and  never  since  mad?. 
the  slightest  difference  between  her  and  her 
own  children,  knew  well  whom  she  was  trus- 
ting. . 

From  that  solemn  hour,  in  the  middie  oi 
the  night,  when  she  lifted  the  hour-old  baby 
out  of  its  dead  mother's  bed  into  lrer  own,, it 


"Beggars  !"  echoed  Selina.  ' 

"  No,  my  dear,  we  were  never  that,'"'  said 
Miss  Leaf,  interposing  against  one  of  the  sud- 
den storms  that  were  often  breaking  out  be- 
tween these  two.  "  You  know  well  we  have 
never  begged  or  borrowed  from  any  body,  and 
r  hardly  ever  been  indebted  to  any  body,  except 

for   the   extra  iessons  that  Mr."  Lyon  would! became  Johanna's  one  object  in  life.     Through 
insist  upon  giving  to  Ascott  at  .home."  a    sickly  infancy,    for   it   was   a   child    born 

Here  Johanna  suddenly  stopped,  and  Ilil-jamidst  trouble,  her  sole  hands  washed,  dres- 
ary,  with  a  slight  colorrising  in  her  faceted,  fed  it;  night  and  day  it  ''lay  in  her 
said—  j  bosons,  and  was  unto  her  as  a  daughter." 


MI3TRBS&  AND  MAID. 


She  was  then  just  thirvy  ;  not  too  old  to 
look  forward  to  woman's  natural  destiny,  a 
husband  and  children  of  her  own.  But  years 
clipped  by,  and  she  was  Miss  Leaf  still.  What 
matter!     Hilary  was  her  daughter. 

Johanna's  pride  in  her  knew  no  bounds. 
Not  that  she  showed  it  much-:  indeed  slit 
deemed  it  a  sacred  duty  not  ow  it ;  but 

to  mak'  h ;hil  -  just  like 

other,  childreu.  But  she  was  not.  Nobody 
ever  thought  sh<  was — even  in  externals.— 
Fate  gave  her  all  those  gifts  which  are  some- 
times sent  to  make  up  for  the  lack 'of  world!) 
prosperity.  Her  brown  eyes. Were  as  soft  a;- 
loves'  eyes,  yet  could  dance  with  tun  and  mis 
chiefif  they  cliche  ;  her  hair,  brown  also,  with 
a  dark-red  shade  in  it,  crisped  'itself  in  two 
wavy  Hoes  over  hor  forehead,  and  then  turn 
bled  down  ip  two  glorious  masses,  which  Jo 
hanna,  ignorant,  alas! 
'•untidy,"  and  labored 

combs,  or  to  arrange,  in  proper,  regular  curls 
Her  features — well,  they  feo,  were  good  ;>  bet 
ter.than  those  unartietic  people  had  any  idea 
-better  even  thanSelina*s,  who  in  her  youth 
had  been  the  belle  of  the  town.  But  whethei 
artistically  correct  or  not,  Johanna,  though 
she  would  on  no  account  have  acknowledged 
it,  believed  solemnly  that  there  was  not  such 
a  face  in  the  whole  world  as  little  Hillary's. 

Possibly  a  similar  idea  dawned  upon  the 
apparently  dull  mind  of  Elizabeth  Hand,  for 
*he  watched  her  vounsest  mistress  intent! 


of  ■  art,    called  very 
I)  vain  to  quel!  undei 


I  hope  never  again  to  Pee  Aunt  Jpha 
cleaning  the  stairs,  and  getting  up  to  light  the 
kitchen  fire   of  winter   mornings,  as  she  will 
lo  if  we  have  not  a  servant  to  do  it  for  her. 
Don't  you  fcee,  Ascott?" 

"Oh,  I  see,"  answered  the  boy,  carelei 
•'  But  don't  bother  me,  please.  Domestic  af- 
fairs are  for  women,  not  men."  Ascott  wa- 
eighteen,  and  just  about  to  pass  out  of  his  cat- 
erpillar state  as  a  doctor's  apprentice-lad  into 
die  chrysalis  condition  of  a  medical  student  in 
London.  "  But,"  with  sudden  reflection,  "  1 
hope  she.  won'i  be  in  my  way.  Don't  let  her 
meddle  with  any  of  my  books  and  things." 

"No:  you  need  not  be  afraid.     I  have  put 
hem  all  into  your  room.     I  myself; cleared 
your  rubbish  out  of  the  box  closet-*-" 

"The    box-ck>8«t!       Now,    really,    L    can't 
stand — " 

"  She  is  to  sleep  in  the  box-closet ;  when 
sould  she  sleep?'"  said  Hilary,  resolutely, 
though  inly  quaking  a  little;  for  somehow. 
fhe  merry,  handsome,  rather  exacting  lad 
had  acquired  considerable  influence  in  this. 
household  of  women.  "You  must  put  up 
with  the  loss  of  your  '  den,"  Ascott  ;  it  would 
be  a  great  shame  it  you  did  not,  for  the  sake 
of  Aunt  Johanna  and  the  rest  of  us." 

"Um  !"  grumbled  the.  boy,  who,  though  he 
was  not  a  bad  fellow  at  heart,    bad  a  boy'? 
dislike  to  "  putting  up"  with 
convenience..     "  Well,    it   won't  ig.     J 

shall  be  off  shortly.     What  a  jollv   lift    l'" 

:    .'  •  ■-    u  . 


ie  watcneu  ner  youngest  mistress  intently. 
from  kitchen  to  parlor,  and  from  parlor  back  1  have  in  London,  Aunt  .Hi! 
to  kitchen:  and  once  when  Miss  Hilary  stood  -Lyon  there  too." 

giving  information  a?  to  the  proper  abode  oij     "Yes,"  said  Aunt  Hilary,    briefly,  ne 
broom, -bellows,  etc.,  the  little  maid  gazed  aldng  to  Dido  and  >Eneas  :  humble  and   eas* 
her  with  such'  admiring  observation  that  the  Latinity  for  a  student  of  eighteen  ;  but    . 
scuttle  she  carried  was   tilted,  and  the  coals  Lw  as  not  a  brilliant  boy,  and,  being  apprenticed' 
were  strewn  all  over  the  kitchen  floor.     At  early,  his  education  had  been  much  neglected. 
which  catastrophe  Miss  Leaflooked  miserable,  till  Mr.  Lyon  came  as  usher  to  the  Stpwb.ur; 
Miss  Selina  spoke  crossly. -and  Ascotr,   who  grammar-school,  and  happening  to  meet  and 
just  then  came'in  to'his  tea,Tate  as  usual,  hurst j take  an  interest  in  him,  taught  him  and  his 
into  a  shout  of  laughter  Aunt  Hilary   Latin,  Greek,  arid  mathems 

It  was  as  much  as  Hilary  could  do  to  help, together,  of  evenings, 
aughing  herself,  she  being  too  near  heme-      I  shall  make  no  mysteries  here.     Human 
phew'sowh  age  always  to  maintain  a  dignified  nature"  is  human  nature  all  the   world  over. 
aUnt-like  attitude,,    but  nevertheless, .  when,  A  tale  vyithout  love  in  it  would  be  nviwr. 
having'  -:  r's  in  the  parlor,  i.unreal — in  fact,  a  simple  lie  ;  for  there  are  no 

she  coaxed  Ascott    into  the  school-room,  andjhistories   and  no  lives  without  love  in  them  : 
insisted  upon  his  Latin  beihgdone — she  help- if  there   could  be,  Heaven  pity    and  pardon 
ing  him,  Aunt  Hilary    -.elded  him  well,  and  them,  for  they  would  be  mere  abortions  o 
bound  him  over  to  keep  the  peace  toward  the  raamtj  . 
new  servant.  •  Thank  Heaven,  we,  most  of  ub,  dot 

"But she  is  such  a  queer  one.     Exactly  like; soph ize;  we  only  live.     We  like  one  anof 
a  South  Sea  Islander.     When  she  stood  withjwe  hardly  know  why:  we  love  one  another, 
her  grim,  stolid  countenance,  contemplating'; we  still  less  know  why.     If  on  the  day  -):■■ 
the  cOalq—-oh,   Aunt  Hilary,  how  killing  she|firstsaw — in  church  it  was — Mr.  Lyon's  grave, 
.was  !"  | heavy-browed,  somewhat  severe  face — for    t 

And  the  regular,  rollicking,  irresistible  boy-jwas  a  Scotsman,  and  his  sharp,  strong  Scotch 
laugh  broke,  out  again.  '-features  did  look  "  hard"  beside  the  soft,  rosy 

"She  will  be  great  fun.     Is  she  really  toj well-conditioned  youth  of  Stowbury — ifonthai 
stay?"  ;Sunday  any   one  had  told  Hilary  Leaf  tha' 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Hilary,  trying  to  be  grave. -the  faceof  this  stranger  was  to  be  the  one  fac* 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


of  her  life,  stumped  upon  brain  and  heart*  and 
soul  with  avividness  that  no  other  impressions 
were  alrong  enough  to  efface,   and  retained 
there  with  a  tenacity  that  no  vicissitudes  of 
time,  or  place,  or  fortunes  had  power  to  alter, 
Hilary  wouh] — yes,  I  think  she  would — have 
quietly  kept  looking  ou.     She  would  have  ac-i 
1  her  lot,"sucu  as  it  was,  with  its  shine] 
-hade,  its  joy  and  its  anguish;  it  came  to! 
ler  Without  her  seeking,  as  most  of  the  solemn! 
things  in  life  do :  and  whatever  it  brought  with 
it,  it  could  hjave  come  from  no  other  source 
than  that  from  which  ail  high,'  and  holy,  and 
pure  loves  ever  must  come — the  will  and  per- 
mission of  God. 

Mr.  Lyon  himself  requires  no  long  descrip- 
tion. In  his  first  vwft  he  had  told  Miss  Leaf 
all  ajoout  himself  that  there  was  to  be  known : ' 
that  he  was,  as  they  were,  a  poor  teacher,  who] 
had  altogether  "made  himself/'  as  so  many, 
Scotch  students  do.  His  father,  whom  he 
scarcely  remembered,  had  been  a  small  Ayr- 
shire farmer ;  his  mother  was  dead,  and  he 
had  ne\ler  had  either  brother  or  sister. 

Seeing  how  clever  Miss  Hilary  was,  and  how 
much  as  a  schoolmistress -she  would-need  all 
the  education  she  could  get,  he  had  offered  to 
teach  her  along  with  her  nephew ;  and  she 
and  Johanna  were  only  too  thankful  for  the 
advantage.  But  during  the  teaching  he  had 
also  taught  her  another  thing,  which  neither 
had  contemplated  at  the  time — "to  respect  him 
with  her  whole  soul,  and  to  love  him  with  her 
whole  hear:. 

Over  this  simple  fact  let  no  more  be  now 
aid.     Hilary   said  nothing.    She  recognized 
it  hersell  as  soon  as  he  was  gone;  a  plain,  sad, 
solemn  truth,  which  there  was  no  deceiving; 
herself  did  not  exist,  even  had  she  wished  its! 
non-existence.     Perhaps  Johanna  also  found; 
it  cut,  in  her  darling's  extreme  paleness  andi 
unusual  quietness  for  awhile;  but  she  too  said] 
nothing.     Mr.  Lyon  wrote  regularly  to  Ascott,  j 
and  once   or   twice   to   hevMiss  Leaf ;•  but 
though  every  one  knew  that  Hilary  was  his' 
particular  friend  in  the  whole  family,  he -did 
not  write  to  Hilary.     He  had  departed  rather 
suddenly,  on  account  o'f  some  plan  which  he 
said,  affected  his  future  very  considerably  :  but 
Irhich,- though  lie  was  in  the  habit  of  telling 
them  his  affairs,  he  did  not  further  explain. 
BUI]  Johanna  knew  he  *v  »ood  man,  a:, J 

though  no  man  could  be  quite  good  enough 


him,   -h 


trusted 


for  her  darling,    she  liked 
him. 

What  Hilary  felt  none  knew.     Bu; 

girlish  in  some  things;  and  her  life,  was 
all  before  her,  full  of  infinite-  hope.  By-and- 
by  her  color  returned,  and  her  merry  voice  and 
laugh   w<  i  .-J  about  the  house  jiost  as 

usual.  # 

This  being  the  position  of  affairs,  it  was  not 
jsurprising  that  after  Ascott's  last  speech  Hil- 
ary rs  mind  wandered  from  Dido  and  Mne&a  to 


vague  listening,  as  the  lad  began  talking  of  his 
grand  future — the  future  of  a  medical  student, 
all  expenses  being  paid  by  his  godfather,  Mr. 
Ascott,  the  merchant,  of  Russell  Square,  once 
a  shop  boy  of  Stowhury.  Nor  was  it  unnatu- 
ral that  all  Ascott's  anticipations  of  London 
resolved  themselves,  in  his  aunt's  eyes,  into 
the  one  fact  that  he  would  "see  Mr.  Lyon." 

But  in  telling  thus  much  about  her  mistres- 
ses, I  have  for  the  time  being  lost  sight  of  Eli- 
zabeth Hand. 

Left  to  herself,  the  girl  stood  for  a  minute 
or  two  looking  around  her  in  a  confused  man- 
ner, then,  rousing  her  faculties,  began  mechan- 
ically to  obey  the  order  with  which  her  mis- 
tress had  quitted  the  kitchen,  and  to  wash  up 
the  tea-things.  She  did  it  in  a  fashion  that, 
if  seen,  would  have  made  Miss  Leaf  thankful 
that  the  ware  was  only  the  common  set,  and 
not  the  cherished  china  belonging  to  former 
days  :  still  she  did  it,  noisily  it  is  true,  but 
actively,  as  if  her  heart  were  in  her  Work. 
Then  she  took  a  candle  and  peered  about  her 
new  domains. 

These  were  small  enough,  at  least  they 
would  have  seemed  so  to  other  eyes  than  Eli- , 
zabeth's  ;  for,  until  the  school-room  and  box- 
closet  above  had  been  kindly  added  by  the 
landlord,  who  would  have  done  any  thing  to 
show  his  respect- for  the  Misses  Leaf,  it  had 
been  'merely  a  six-roomed  cottage — parlor, 
kitchen,  back  kitchen,  and  three  upper  cham- 
bers. It  was  a  very  cozy  house  notwithstand- 
ing, and  it  seemed  to  Elizabeth's  eyes  a  perfect 
pala.ee.  . 

For  several  minutes  more  .-.he  stood  and 
contemplated  her  kitchen,  with  the  lire  shining 
on  the  round  oaken  stand  in  the  centre,  and 
the  large  wooden-bottomed  chairs,  and  the 
loud-ticking  clock,  with  its  tall  case,  the  inside 
of  which,  with  its  pendulum  and  weights,  had 
been  a  perpetual  mystery  and  delight,  first  to 
Hilary's  and  then  to  Ascott's  childhood.  Then 
there  was  the  sofa,  large  and  ugly,  but,  oh  !  so 
comfortable,  with  its  faded,  tlowered  chintz, 
washed  and  worn  for  certainly  twenty  years. 
And,  overall,  Elizabeth's  keen  observation  was 
attracted  by  a  queer  machine  apparently  made 
of  thin  rope  and  bits  of  wood,  which  hung  up 
to  the  hooks  on  the  ceiling — an  old-fashioned 
baby's  swing.  Finally,  her  eye  dv 
content  on  the  blue  and  red  diamond 
floor,  so  easily  swept  and  mopped,  and  (only 
Elizabeth  did  not  think  of  that,  for  her  hard 
childhood  had  been  all  work  and  no  play)  so 
beautiful  to  whip  tops  upon  !  Hilary  and  As- 
cott, condoling  together  over  the  new  servant, 
congratulated  themselves  that  their  delight  in 
this  occupation  had  somewhat  faied,  though  it 
was  really  not  so  many  years  ago  since  one  of 
the  former's  pupils,  coming  suddenly  out  of 
the  school-room,  had  caught  her  in  the  act  of 
whipping  a  meditative  top  round  this  same 
kitchen  floor. 


8 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


Meantime  Elizabeth  penetrated  farther,  in-J     "  What  has  the  girl  broken  ?"  cried  Selina. 
vestigating  the  back  kitchen,  with  its  variousj     "  Where  ha9  she  hurt  herself?"  anxiously 
conveniences;    especially   the    pantry,    everyiadded  Johanna, 
shelf  of  which  was  so  neatly  arranged   and      Hilary  said  nothing,  but  ran  for  a  light,  and 


beautifully  clean.  Apparently  this  neatness 
impressed  the  girl  with  a.sense  of  novelty  and 
curiosity  ;  and  though  shecould  hardly  be  said 
to  meditate — her  mind  was  not  sufficiently 
awakened  for  that— still,  as  she  stood  at  the 
kitchen  fire,  a  slight  thoughtfulness  deepened 
the  expression  of  her  face,  and  made  it  less 
dull  and  heavy  than  y)  had  at  first  appeared. 

"  I  wonder  which  on  /em  does  it  all.  'They 
must  work  pretty  hard,  I  reckon;  and  two  p! 
them's  such  little  uns." 

She  stood  a  while  longer ;  for  sitting  down 
appeared  to  be  to  Elizabeth  as  new  a  proceed 
ing  as  thinking;  then  she  went  up  stairs,  still 
literally  obeying  orders,  to  shut  windows  and 


then  picked  up  first  the  servant,  then  the  can- 
dle, and  then  the  fragments  of  crockery. 

"  Why,  it's  my  ewer,  my  favorite  ewer,  and 
it'=,  all  smashed  to  bits,  and  I  never  can  match 
it  again.  You  careless,  clumsy,  good-for-no- 
thing creature  !" 

"Please,  Selina,''  whispered  her  eldest  sis- 
ter. 

li.  Very  well,  Johanna.  .You  are  the  mis- 
tress, I  suppose  ;  why  don't  you  speak  to  your 
servant?" 

Miss  Leaf,  in  an  humbled,  alarmed  \\  ay,  first 
satisfied  herself  that  no  bodily  injury  had  been 
sustained   by  Elizabeth,  and  then  asked  he: 


how  this  disaster  had  happened  '.'  For  a  seriou? 
pull  down  blinds  at  nightfall.  The  bedrooms  Ijsaster  she  felt  it  was.  Not  onlj  was  the 
were  small,  and  insufficiently,  nay,  shabbily; present  loss  annoying,  but  a  servant  with  8 
furnished;  but  the  floors  were  spotless — ah  !  talent  for  crockery  breaking  would  be  a  far  too 
poor  Johauna  ! — and  the  sheets,  though  patch-  expensive  luxury  for  them  to  think  of  retain-, 
ed  and  darned  to  the  last  extremity,  weie  «diite  ing.  And  she  had  been  listening  in  the  soli- 
and  whole.  Notning  was  dirty,  nothing  unti-  rude  of  the  parlor  to  a  long  lecture  from  her 
dy.  There  was  no  attempt  at  picturesque  always  dissatisfied  younger  sister,  on  thegreat 
poverty — for  whatever  novelists  may  say,  pov- doubts  Selina  had  about  Elizabeth's  "suil- 
erty  can  not  be  picturesque;  but  all  things  ine-" 


were  decent  and  m  order.  The  house,  poor  as 
it  was,  gave  the  impression  of  belonging  to 
"real  ladies  ;"  ladies  who  thought  no  manner 
of  work  beneath  them,  and  who,  whatever 
they  had  to  do,  took  the  pains  to  do  it  as  well 
as  possible. 

Mrs.  Band's  roughly-brought-up  daughter 
had  never  been  in  such  a  house  before,  and 
her  examination  of  every  new  corner  of  it 
seemed  quite  a  revelation..  Her  own.  little 
sleeping  nook  was  fully  as  tidy  and  comfortable 


"Come,   now,"  seeing    the   girl    hesii 
"  tell  me  the  plain  truth.     How  was  ft 

"It  was  the  cat,"  sobbed  Elizabeth. 

"What  a  barefaced  falsehood  !"  exclaimed 
Selina.  "  You  wicked  girl,  how  could  it  pos- 
sibly be  the  cat?  Do  you  know  that  you  are 
telling  a  lie,  and  that  lies  are  hateful,  and  that 
all  liars  go  to — " 

"Nonsense,  hush!"  interrupted  Hilar), 
rathersharply;  forSelina's "tottgue,"  theterror 
of  her   childhood,  now  merely  annoyed  her. 


as  the  rest,  which  fact  was  not  lost  upon  Eliza-  Selina's  temper  was  a  long  understood  house- 
beth.  That  bright  look  of  mingled  softness)  hold  fact — they  did  not  much  mind  it,  knowing 
and  intellincence — the  onlv  thine  which  beau-  that  her  bark  was  worse  than  her  bite — but  it 


:ified  her  rugged  face — came  into  the  girl's 
.-yes  as  she  "turned  down"  ,the  truckle-bed, 
and  felt  the  warm  blankets  and  sheets,  new 
and  rather  coarse,  but  neatly  sewed.' 

"  Her's  made  'em  hersel',  1  reckon*  La  '." 
VVh'eh  of  her  mistresses  the  ".her"  referred 
to  remained  unspecified  ;  but. Elizabeth,  spur- 
red to  action  by  some  new  idea,  went  briskly 
back  into  the  bedrooms,  and  looked  abo: 
see  if  there  was  any  thing  she   could  find  to 


was  provoking  that  she  should  exhibit  hersel! 
so  soon  before  the  new  servaut. 
•  The  latter  first  looked  up  at  the  lady  with 
simple  surprise  ;  then,  as  in  spite  of  .the  other 
two,    Miss   Selina  worked    herself  up  into  a 
downright  passion,  and  unlimited  abuse  fell' 
uponthe  victim's  devoted  head,    Elizabeth'^ 
manner  changed.     After  onedogged  repetit' 
of,  "  It  was  the  cat !"  not  another  word  could' 
got  out  of  her.     She  stopd,  her  eye=>  fixeu 
do.     At  last,  with  a  sudden  inspiration,  shejon  the  kitehen  floor,  her  brows  knitted,  and 
peered  into  a  wash-stand,  and  found  there  anjher  under  lip  pushed  out— the  very  picture  ol 
smpty  ewer.     Taking  it  in  one  hand  and  the  sullennees.     Young  as  she  was.  Elizabeth  evi- 
•jaridle  in  th  ,  she  ran  down  •  de-ntly  had,  like  her  unfortunate  mJstr 

Fatal  activity!     Hilary'.,  pet  oat, -startled  temper  of  her  own" — a  spiritual   deforwjt) 
::i  sleep  on  the  kitchen  hearth,  at  the  same  that  some    people   are   boin   with,  as  otL 
ant  ran  wildly  up  stairs;  there  was  a  .start  with  hare-lip  or  club-foot;  only,  unlike  these, 
—a  stumble — and  then  down  came  the  candle,  it  may  be  conquered,  though  the  battle  is  long 
the  ewer,  Elizabeth,  and  all.  and  sore,  sometimes  endingonly  with  life. 

It  was  an  awful  crash.  It  brought  ev^ry  It  had  plainly  never  conTmenced  with  poor 
member  of  the  family  to.  see  what  was  the  Elizabeth  Hand.  Her  appearance,  as  she 
matter.  [stood  under  the  flood  of  sharp  words  poured 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


9 


out  upon  her,  was  absolutely  repulsive.  Even, 
Miss. Hilary  turned  away;  and  began  to  think 
it  would  have  been  easier  to  teach  all  day  and 
do  house-work  half  the  niglft,  than  have  the 
infliction  of  a  servant— to  say  nothing  of  the 
disgrace  of  seeing  Selina's  "peculiarities"  so 
exposed  before  a.  stranger.  ' 

She  knew  of  old  that  to  stop  the  torrent  was 
impracticable.  The  only  chance  was  10  let 
Selina  expend  her  wrath  and  retire,  and  then 
to  take  some' quiet  opportunity  of  explaining 
to  Elizabeth  that  sharp  language  was  only 
"  her  way,"  and  must  be  put  up  with.  Hu- 
miliating as  this  was,  and  fatal  to  domestic 
authority  that  the  first  thing  to  be  taught  a 
new  servant  was  to  "put  up"  with  one  of  her 
mistresses,  still  there  was  no  alternative. — 
Hilary  Lad  already  foreboded  and  made  up 
her  mind  to  such  a  possibility,  but  she  had 
hoped  it  would  not  occur  the  very  first  even- 
ing-      : 

It  did,  however,  and  its  climax  was  worse 
even  than  she  anticipated.  Whether,  irritated 
by  the  intense  sullenness  of  the  girl,  Selina's 
temper  was  worse  than  usual,  or  whether,  as  is 
always  thecase  .vith  people  like  her,  something 
else  had  vexed  her,  and  she  vented  it  upon  the 
first  causeof annoyance  thatoccurred,  certain  it 
is  that  her  tongue  went  on  unchecked  till  it 
failed  from  sheer  exhaustion.  And  then,  as 
she  flung  herself  on  the  sofa — oh,  sad  mis 
chance  ! — she  caught  sight  of  her  nephew 
standing  at  the  'school-room  door,  grinning 
with  intense  delight,  and  making  faces  at  her 
behind  her  back. 

It  was  too  much.  The  poor  lady  had  no 
more  words  left  to  scold  with  ;  but  she  rushed 
up  to  Ascott,  and  big  lad  as  he  was,  she 
soundlv  boxed  his  ears. 

On  this  terrible  climax  let  the  curtain  fall. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Common  as  were  the  small  feuds  between 
Ascott  and  his  Aunt  Selina,  they  seldom 
reached  such  a  catastrophe  as  that  described 
in  my  last  chapter.  Hifciry  had  to  fly  to  the 
rescue,  and  literally  drag  the  furious  lad  back 
into  the  school-room  ;  while  Johanna,  pale 
and  trembling,  persuaded  Selina  to  quit  the 
field  and  go  and  lie  down.  This  was  not  dif 
ficult ;  for  the  instant  she  saw  what  she  had 
done,  how  she  had  disgraced  herself  and  in- 
sulted her  nephew.  Selina  felt  sorry.  Her 
passion  ended  in  a  gush  of  "  nervous"  tear6. 
under  the  influence  of  which  she  was  led  up 
stairs  and  put  to  bed,  almost  like  a  child— the 
usual  termination  of  these  pitiful  outbreaks. 

For  the  time  nobody  thought  of  Elizabeth. 
The  hapless  cause  of  all  stood  "spectatress  of 
the  fray"  beside  her  kitcheu  fire.  What  she 
thought  aietory  s&ith  uo\,    WJ>*b<?r  in  hex 


own  rough  home  she  was  used  to  see  brothers 
'and  sisters  quarrelling,  arid  mothers  boxing 
their  childrens'  ears,  can'not  be  known; 
whether  she  was  or  was  ijot  surprised  to  eee 
the  same  proceedings  among  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen, she  never  betrayed,  but  certain  it  is 
that  the  little  servant  becaine  uncommonly 
serious  ;  yes,  serious  rather  than  sulky,  for 
lur  "  black"  looks  vanished  gradually,  as  soon 
as  Miss  Selina  left,  the  kitchen. 

On  the  reappearance  of  Miss  Hilary  it  had 
quite  gone.  But  Hilarr  took  no  notice  of 
her;  she  was  in  search  of  Johanna,  »ho,  sha- 
king and  cold  with  agitation,  came  slowly 
down  stairs.  • 

"  Is  she  gone  to  bed  ?" 
'  Yes,  my  dear.     It  was  the  best  thing  for 
her:  she  is  not  at  all  well  to-day." 

Hilary's  lip  curled  a  little,  but  she  replied 
not  a  word.  She  had  not  the. patience  with 
Selina  that  Johanna  had.  She  drew  her  elder 
sister  into  the  little  parlor,  placed  her  in  the 
arm-chair,  shut  the  door,  came  and  sat  beside 
her,  and  took  her  hand. 

Johanna  pressed  it,  shed  a  qu ret  tear  or 
two,  and  wiped  them  away.  Thtyi  the  two 
sisters  remained  silent,  with,  hearts  sad  and 
sore. 

Every  family  has  its  skeleton  in  the'house; 
this  was  theirs.  Whether  they  acknowledged 
it  or  not,  they  knew  quite  well  that  every  dis- 
comfort they  had,  every  slight  jar  which  dis- 
turbed the  current  of  household  peace,  some- 
how or  other  originated  with  "  poor  Selina." 
They  often  called  her  "  poor"  with  a  sort  of 
pity— not  unneeded,  Heaven  knows  !  for  if  the 
unhappy  are  to  be  pitied,  ten  times  more  60 
are  those  who  make  others  miserable. 

This  was  Selina's  case,  and  had  been  all  her 
life.  And,  sometimes,  she  herself  knew  it. 
Sometimes,  after  an  especially  bad  outbreak, 
her  compunction  and  remorse  would  be  almost 
a*  terrible  as  her  passion  ;  forcing  her  sisters 
to  make  every  excuse  for  her  ;  she  "  did  not 
mean  it,"  it  was  only  "ill  health,"  or  "nerves," 
or  hei  "  unfortunate  way  of  taking  things." 

But  they  knew  in  their  hearts  that  not  all 
their  povertv  and  the  toils  it  entailed,  not  all 
the  hardships  and  humiliation  of  their  chang- 
ed estate,  were  half  so  bitter  to  bear  as  this 
something — no  moral  crime,  and  yet  in  its 
results  as  fatal  as  crime — which  they  called 
Selina's  "  wav." 

Asnott  was  the  only  "one  who  did.  not  attempt 
to  mince  matter'3.  When  a  little  boy  he  had 
openly  declared  he  hated  Aunt  Sslina;  when 
he  grew  up  he  as  openly  defied  her ,  and  it 
was  a  most  difficult  matter  to  keep  even  de- 
cent peace  between  them.  Hilary's  wrath 
had  never  gone  further  than  wishing  Selina 
was  married,  that  appearing  the  easiest  way 
of  getting  rid  of  her.  Latterly  she  had  ceased 
this  earnest  aspiration  ;  it  might  be,  because, 
fearoip^  to  think,  tpojre  eetiously  of  marri*^ 


w 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


she  felt  that  a  woman  who  is  no  blessing  in 
her  own  household,  is  never  likely  much  to 
bless  a  husband"*  ;  and  that,  looking  stil-l 
farther  forward,  it  wis,  on  the  whole,  a  mercy 
of  Providence,  which  made  Selina  not  the 
mother  of  children* 

Yet  her  not  marrying  had  been  somewhat  a 
surprise;  for  she  hail  been  attractive  in  her 
day,  handsome  and  agreeable  in  society.  But 
perhaps,  for  all  that,  the  sharp  eye  of  the  op 
posite  sex  had  discovered  the  cloven  foot; 
since,  though  she  had  received  various  prom  is 
ing  attentions,  poor  Selina  hail  never  had  an 
offer.  Nor,  fortunately,  had  she  ever  been 
known  to  care  for*  any  body  ;  she  was  one  of 
those  women  who  would  have  married  as  a 
matter  of  course,  but  who  never  would  have 
been  guilty  of  the  weakness  of  falling  in  lo\e. 
There  seemed  small  probability  of  shipping 
her  off,  to  carry  into  a  new  household  tfie 
iestlessness;  the  fretfulness,  the  captious  fault- 
fin  ling. with  others,  the  readiness  to  take. of- 
fence at  what  was  done  and  said  to  herself, 
winch  made  poor  Selina  Leaf  theunaeknow 
leoVed  grief  and  torment  of  her  own. 

Her  two  sisters  sat  silent.  What  was  th^ 
us?  of  talking?  .  It  would  be  only  going  Gvei 
and  over  a<jain  the  old  tiling;  trving  to  ease 
and  shift  a  little  the  long  familiar  burden 
which  they  knew  must  be  borne.  Nearly 
every  household  haa,  near  or  remote,  some 
such  burden,  which  Heaven  only  can  lift  off 
or  help  to  bear.  And  sometimes,  looking, 
round  the  world  ontsiile,  these  two  congratu- 
lated themselves,  in  a  half  s,ort  of  way,-  that 
theirs  was  as  light  as  It  was  ;  that  Selina  was. 
after  all,  a  well-meaning  well-principled  wo 
man,  and,  in  spite  of  her  little  tempers,  realh 
fond  of  her  family,  as  she  truly  was.  at  least  as 
fond  as  a  nature  which  lias  its  eehtre  in  self 
can  manage  to  be. 

Only  when  Hilary  looked,  as  tonight,  into 
her  eldest  sister's  pale  face,  where  year  by  year 
the  line^  were  deepening,  and  saw  how  even 
agitatioirsuoh  as  the  p resent  shook  her  more 
and  n. ore  —  she  who  ought  to  have  a  quiet  life 
and  a  cheerful  home,  after  so  many  hard  year- 
— then  Hilary,  fierce  in  the  resistance  of  her 
youth,  felt  as  ifwhat  she  could  have  borne  foi 
herself  she  could  not  bear  for  Johanna,  and 
at  the  moment,  sympathized  with  Ascott  in 
setuaHy  '"hating"  Aunt  Selina. 

"  Where  is  that  boy  ?  He  ought  to  be  spo 
ken  to,"  Johanna 'jaid,  at  length,  rising  wea 
rily. 

"  I  have  spoken  to  him  :  I  gave  him  a  good 
scolding.  He  ib  sorry,  and  promises  never  to 
be >©  rude  again." 

''Oh  no;  not  till  the  next  time,"  replied 
Mi**s  Leaf,  hopele66ly.  "  But  Hilary,"  with 
a  6udden  consternation,  "what  are  we  to  do 
about,  Elizabeth  ?"  • 

The  younger  &ist«r  had  thought  of  that.  She 
jjftd  tQroed  over  i&  Jjer  ujir/J  all  the  proe  aod 


eons,  the  inevitable  "  worries"  that  would  re- 
sult from  the  presence  of  an  additional  mem- 
ber of  the  family,  especially  one  from  whom 
•lie  family  skeleton  could  not  be  hid.  to  whom 
it  was  already  only  too  fatally  revealed.     * 

But  Hilary  was  a  clear-headed  girl,  and  she 
had  the  rare  faculty  of  seeing  things  as  they 
really  were,  undistorted  by  her  own  likings  or 
dislikings — in  fart,  without  reference  to  herself 
at  all.  She  perceived  plainly  that  Johanna 
ought  not  to  do  the  housework,  that  Stlina 
would  not.  and  that  she  could  not:  ergo,  they 
must  keep  a  servant.  Better,  perhaps,  a  small 
servant,  over  whom  'hey  could  havethesame 
influence  as  o\er  a  child,  than  one  older  and 
more  independent,  who  would  irritate  her 
mistresses  at  home,  and  chatter  of  them 
abroad.  Besides,  they  had  promised  Mrs. 
Hand  to  give  her  daughter  a  fair  trial.  For  a 
month,  then,  Elizabeth  was  bound  to  stay  ; 
afterward,  time  would  show.  It  was  best  not 
to  meet  troubles  half  way. 

This  explained,  in  Hilary's  cheerful  voice, 
seemed  greatly  to  reassure  and  comfort  Ker 
sister. 

"  Yes,  love,  you  are  right  :  she  must  remain 
her  month  out,  unless  she  does  something  very 
wrong.  Do  you  think  that  reallv  was  a  lie 
she  told  ?" 

■"  About  the  cat?  I  don't  quite  know  what 
to  think.  Let  us  call  her,'  and  nut  the  ques- 
tion once  more.  Do  you  put  it,  Johanna.  I 
don't  think  she  could  look  at'you  and  tell  you 
a  story." 

Other  people,  at  sight  of  thrjt  sweet,  grave 
face,  its  bloom  faded,  and  Iiairo  silvered  long 
before  their  time,  yet  beautiful,  with  an  al- 
most childlike  simplicity  and  childlike  peace 
— most  other  people  would  have  been  of  Hil- 
ary's opinion. 

"  Sit  down  ;  I'll  call  her.  Dear  me,  Johan- 
na, we  shall  have  to  set  up  a  bell  as  well  as  a 
servant,  unless  we  had  managed  to  combine 
the  two." 

But  Hilary's  harmless' little  joke  failed  to 
make  her  sister  smile  ;  and  the  entrance  of  the 
sirl'seemed  to  excite  positive*  appreben 
How  was  it  possible  to  make  excuse  to  a  sen 
va«t  for  her  mistress's  shortcomings?  how 
scold  for  ill-doing  this  young  girl.,  to.  whom,, 
ere  she  had  been  a  night  in  the  house,  so  bad 
an  example  had  been  set?  TTohanna  hali 'ex- 
pected Elizabeth  to  take  a  leaf  out  of  Selina'B 
book,  and  begin  abusing  herself  and  Hilary. 

No:  she  stood  very  sheepish,  very  uncom- 
fortable, but  not  in  the  least  bold  or  sulky— 
on  the  whole,  looking  rather  penitent  and 
humble. 

Her  mistress  took  courage. 

"Elizabeth  I  wa»t  you  to  tell  me  the  truth! 
about  that  unfortunate  breakage.  Don't  bd 
afraid.  I  had  ratb&  you  brokeevery  thing  id 
the  hou^e  vjjwi  ii«#vo  void  uje  what  waa  udj 
trw." 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


11 


.     »'  It  was  true  ;  it  was  the  cat." 

"  How  could  that  be  possible  ?     You  were 
*ommj?   down   stairs   with  the  ewer  in  your 

^•Hercrot  under"  mv  feet,  and  throwe.l  me 
down,  and  so  I  tumbled,  and  smashed  the 
thing  agin  the  floor.' 


awkwaid  at  firs'.  However,  she  succeeded  in 
pouring  out  and  carrving  into  the  parlor,  with- 
out accident,  three  p'latefuls  of  that  excellent 
condiment  which  formed  the  frugal  supper  of 
the  family'  t.ut  which  tl.ey  ate,  1  grieve  to 
iay  in  an  orthodox  southern  fashion,  with. 
Bftear  or  treacle,  until  Mr.  Lyon— greatly  hoi- 


k  ^  g.«-.  at  e.ch  o.,«.  ^ jk-s^j^iKia  st"  ~* 


torn  of  '•  supping"  porridge  with  milk. 

It  mav  be  a  very  unsentimental  thing  to 
confess,  but  Hilary, "who  even  at  twenty  was 
rather  practical  than  poetieal.  never  made  the 
porridge  without  thinking  of  Robeit  Lyon; 
and  the  dav  wjien  he  first  stakl  to  supper,  ann 
ate  it,  or  as  he  said  and  was  very  much  laugh- 
ed at,  ate  "them"  with  such  infinite  relish. 
Since  then,  whenever  he  came,  he  atwayi 
asked  for  his  porridge,  savins  it  carried  nun 
hack  to  his  childish  days.  And  Hilary,  with 
that  curious  pleasure  that  Avomen  take  in  wait- 
in  rr  upon  any  one  unto  whom  the  heart  is  igm> 
ranify  beginriinsrtOo.wn  the  allegiance,  humbl* 
vet  proud,  of  Miranda  to  Ferdinand: 

"  To  be  your  fellow 
You  tmy  de>.y  me ;  but  I'll  be  your  Berrant    • 
Whether  you  will  Or  no." 


This  version  of  the  momentous  event  wan 
probable  enough,  and  the  girl's  eager,  honest 
manner  gave  internal  confirmatory  evidence 

prettv  strong.  ,,       . , 

«  I  am  sure  she  is  telling  the  truth,  said 
Hilarv.  "  And  remember  what  her  mother 
said  about  her  word  being  always  reliable. 

This  reference  was  too  much  for.  hlizabeth. 
She  burst  out,  not  into  actual  crying,  but  into 
a  smothered  choke.  . 

"  If  you  donnot  believe  me,  missus,  J  d  ra- 
ther go  home  to  mother."  . 

"  l'do  believe  yOu,"said  Miss  Leaf,  kind  y  : 
then  waited  till  the  pinafore,  used  as  a  poeke 
handkerchief,  had  dried  up  grief  and  restored 

composure.  •  ,     ,  . , 

"  I  can  quite  well  understand  the  acciden 
now  ;  and  I  am  sure  if  you  had  put  it  as  plain 

■  &"  mi  :»^S£u£&  H„a,v  ahva,.  contrived  ,o  n,a«e  hi.  sapP" 


wonder.     She  will  be  equally  glad  to  find  she 
was  mistaken."  , 

Here  Miss  Leaf  paused,  somewhat  puzzled 
how  to  express  what  she  felt  it  her  duty  to  say. 
so  as  to  be  comprehended  by  the  servant,  and 
yp:  not  let  down  the  dignity  of  the  .amily. 
Hilary  came  to  her  aid. 

"Miss  Selina  is  sometimes  hasty  ;  t.ut  she 
means  kindly    alwavs.     You  must  take  care 
not  to  vex  her.  Elizabeth  ;  and  you  must  neve, 
answer  her  back  again,  however  sharply  she 
speaks.     It  is  not  your  business  ;  you  are  onh 
a  child,  and  she  is" your  mistress."  ^      ^  - 
"  Is  her?     I  thought  it  was  this   im. 
The  subdued  clouding  of  Elizabeth's  face, 
and  her  blunt  pointing  to  Miss  Leaf  as  "this 
;un."    were    too   much   tor    Hilary's  gravity 
She  was  obliged  to  relrea'  to  the    press,  and 
begin  an  imaginary  search  for  a  book. 

-Yes,  I  am  the  eldest,  and  I  suppose  you 
mav  consider  me  specially  as  your  mistress, 
said  Johanna,  simplv.  "  Remember  always 
to  come  to  me  irt  any  difficulty  ;  and  above 
all,  to  tell  me  every  thins:  outright,  as  soon  as 
it  happens.  I  can  forgive  you  almost  any 
fault,  if  vou  are  truthful  and  honest ;  but  there 
is  one  thing  I  never  could  forgive,  and  that  Hj 
deception.  Now  eo  with  Miss  Hilary,  and 
she  will  teach  you  how  to  make  the  porridge 
for  supper." 

Elizabeth  obeyed  «ilently  \   she  had  appa 
rently  a  great  gift,  for  silence.     And  she  was 
certainly   both  obedient  and  willing;  not  stu- 
pid, either,  though  a  nervousness  of  tempera 
ment  which  Hilarv  was  surprised  to  find  mso 
big  and  coarse-looking- a  girl,  made  her  rather 


herself. 

Those  pleasant  davs  were  now  -over.  Mr. 
Lyon  was  gone.  As  she  'stool  a'-one  oven-  the 
kitchen  fire,  she  thought— **  now  and  then 
die  let  herself  think  for  a  minute  or  two  in  her 
busv  prosaic  life— of  tlr.it  August  night,  stand- 
ing at  the  front  door,  of  his  last  "good-by. 
i ml  last  hand-clasp,  tight,  warm,  and  firm; 
and  somehow   she,  like  Johanna,  trusted  in 

'  Not  exactly  in  his  love;  it  seemed   almost 
i  nposflible  that  he  should  Inverter,  at  least  till 
die    "few   much    more    worthy   of  him  than 
now -"but  in  himself,  that  he  would  never  be 
less  himself,   less  thoroughly   good   and   true 
than  now.     That,  some  time,  he  would  be  sure 
to  come  hack  again,  and  take  up  his  o-d  rel* 
lions   with   them,    brightening   their  dull  ate 
with  his  cheerfulness;  infusiu*  in  their  fenr.n 
ine    household    the    new  element  of   a  c.ear, 
ptrono-  energetic,  manlv  will,  which  spmetuner 
made  Johanna  sav  that  instead  of  twentydiv 
the  voting   man    might   be  forty :  and.  anov 
all    bringing  into  their  poverty  the  s.lent  sym- 
pathy of  one  who  had  fought  his  own   battle 
with' the  world— a  hard  one.  too.  as   his  face 
sometimes    showed -though    he   never    said 
much  about  it. 

Of  the  results  of  thi"  pleasant  relation  - 
whether  die.  being  theonly  truly  marriageable 
person  in  the  house.  Robert  Lyon  intended  to 
marry  her.  or  was  expected  to  do  so.  or  that 
society  would  think  it  a  verv  odd  thing  i  he 
lid  not  do  so— this  unsophisticated  Hilary 
never  tho..c/.a  at  all.  If  he  had  said  to  hei 
that  the  present  state  of  things  was  to  go  ot 


13 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


forever ;  she  to  remain  always  Hilary  Leaf, 
and  he  Robert  Lyon,  tlie  faithful  friend  of  tlie 
family,  she  would  have  smiled  in  his  face  and 
been  perfectly  satisfied. 

True,  she  had  never  had  any  thing  to  drive 
away  the  smile  from  that  innocent  lace";  no 
vague  jpalousies  aroused ;  no  maddening  ru- 
mors afloat  in  the  small  world  that  was  his 
and  theirs.  Mr.  Lyon  was  giave  and  sedate 
in  all  his  ways;  he  never  paid  the  slightest 
attention  to,  or  expressed  the  slightest  interest 
in,  any  woman  whatsoever. 

And  so  this  hapless  girl  laved  him — just 
himself;  without  the  s'ightest  reference  to  hir 
"connections,"  for  he  had  none;  or  his  "pros 
pects,"  which,  if  he  had  any,  she  did  not  k'nov 
of.  Alas !  to  practical  and  prudent  people  1 
can  offer  no  excuse  for  her;  excppt,  perhaps 
what  Shakspeare  gives  in  the  creation  of  tin 
poor  Miranda. 

When  the  small  servant  reentered  the  kit 
chen,  Hilary,  with  a  half  sigh,  shook  off"  hei 
dreams,  called  Ascott  out  of  (he  school  room 
and  returned  to  the  work-a-day  world  and  tin 
family  supper. 

This  being  ended,  seasoned  with  a  few  quiei 
words  administered-  to  Ascott,  and  which  oi 
'  the  whole  he  took  pretty  well,  it  was  nearh 
ten  o'clock. 

"  Far  too  late  to  have  kept  up  such  a  chili? 
a6  Elizabeth  ;  we  must  not  do  it  again,"  saiH 
Miss  Leaf,  taking  down  the  large  Bible  with 
which  she  was  accustomed  to  conclude  tin 
day — Ascott's  early  hours  at  school  and  theii 
own  house-work  making'  it  difficult  of  morn 
ings.  Very  brief  the  reading  was,  sometime1- 
not  more  than  half  a  dozen  verses,  with  nr 
comment  thereon  ;  she  thought  the  Word  of 
God  might  safely  be  left  to  expound  itself 
Being  a  very  humble-minded  woman,  she  did 
not  feel  qualified  to  lead  long  devotional  "ex 
ercises,"  and  she  disliked  formal  written  pray 
ers.  So  she  merely  read  the  Bible  to  the 
family,  and  said  after  it  the  Lord's  Prayer. 

But,  constitutionally  shy  as  Miss  Leaf  was 
to  do  even  this  in  presence  of  a  stranger  cost 
her  some  effort;  and  it  was  onlv  a  sense  of 
duty  that  made  her  say  "  yes"  to  Hilary's  sug- 
gestion, '*  I  suppose  we  ought  to  call  in  Eliza- 
beth?" 

Elizabeth  came. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  her  mistress  :  and  she  sal 
down,  staring  uneasily  round  about  her,  as  if 
wondering  what  was  going  to  befall  her  next. 
Very  silent  was  the  little  parlor ;  so  small, 
that  it  was  almost  filled  up  by  its  large  square 
piano,  its  six  cane-bottomed  chairs,  and  one 
easy  chair,  in  which  sat  Miss  Leaf  with  the 
great  Book  in  her  lap. 

"Can  you  read.  Elizah-th  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Hilary,  giv^  her..'  lit!  !?." 

And  so  Elizabeth  followed,  guided  by  her 
DOt  too  clean  finger,  the  words,  read  in  that 


soft,  low  voice,  somewhere  out  of  the  Hew  j 
Testament;  weds,  simple  enough  for  the 
comprehension,  of  a  child  or  a  heathen.  The 
"South  Sea  Islander,"  as  Ascott  persieted  in 
calling  her,  then,  doing  as  the  family  did, 
turned  round  to  kneel  down  ;  but  in  her  con- 
fusion she  knocked  overachair,  causing  Miss 
Leaf  to  wait  a  minute  till  reverent  silence  was 
restored.  Elizabeth  knelt,  with  her  eyes  fixed 
on  the  wall:  it  was  a  green  paper,  patterned 
with  bunches*  of  nuts.  How  far  she  listened, 
->r  how  much  she  understood,  it  was  impossi- 
>le  to  say  ;  but  her  manner  was  decent  and 
lecorous.    . 

"  Forgive  us  our  trespasses  as  we  forgive  those  , 
hat  trespass,  against  us."     Unconsciously  Miss  . 
leaf's  gentle  voice  rested  on  these  words,  bo 
leeded  in  the  daily  life  of  every  human  being, 
ind  especially  of  every  family.     Was  she  the 
inly  one  who  thought  of  '•'  poor  Selina  ?" 

They  all  rose  from  their  knees,  and  Hilary 
->ut  the  Bible  away.  The  little  ser"ant "  hung 
lbout,"  apparently  uncertain  what  was  next  to 
'>e  done,  or  what  was  expected  of  her  to  do. 
Hilary  touched  her  sister. 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Leaf,  recollecting  herself, 
»nd  assuming  the  due  authority,  "it  is  quite   - 
time  for  all  the  family  to  be  in  bed.    Takecar? 
vf  your  candle,  and  mind  and  be  up  at  six  to- 


morrow morning. 


This  was  addressed  to  the  new  maiden,  who 

Iropped  a  court esv,  and  6aid,  almost  cheerful- 

'y,  *:  Yes,  ma'am?' 
"  Very  well.     Good  night.  Elizabeth." 
And  following  Miss    Leaf's  example,   the 

other  two.  even  Ascott,  said  civilly  and  kindly, 

'.'  Good  night,  Elizabeth." 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  Christmas  holjdaya  ended,  and  Ascott 
left  for  London.  It  was  the  greatest  household 
change  the  Misses  Leaf  had  known  for  years, 
ind  they  missed  hinr  sorely.  Ascott  was  not 
fxactly'a  lovable  boy,  and  yet,  after  the  fash- 
ion of  womankind,  his  aunts  were  both  fond 
and  proud  of  him;  fond,. in  their  childless  old 
maidenhood,  of  any  sort  of  nephew,  and  proud, 
unconsciously,  that  the  said  nephew  waeabig 
fellow,  who  could  look  over  all  their  heads, 
besides  being  handsome  and  pleasant  manner- 
ed, and  though  not  clever  enough  to  set  Xhe 
Thames  on  fire,  still  sufficiently  bright  to  make  , 
them  hope  that  in  his  future  the  family  star 
might  again  rise. 

There  was  something  pathetic  in  these  three 
women's  idealization -of  him — even  Selina'a, 
who  though  quarrelling  with  him  to  his. face 
always  praised  him  behind  his  back — that 
great,  good  looking.la/v  lad  ;  who,  every  body 
else  saw  clearly  enough,  thought  more  of  his 
own  noble  self  than  of  all  hie  aunts  put  to- 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


IS 


gether.  The  only  person  h«  stood  in  awe  of 
was  Mr.  Lyon — for  whom  he  always  protested 
unbounded  respect  and  admiration.  How  far 
Robert  Lyon  liked  Ascott  even  Hilary  could 
never  quite  find  out  ;  but  he  was  always  very 
kind  to  him. 

There  was  one  person  in  the  house  who, 
strange  to  say,  did  not  succumb  to  the  all- 


Miss  Leaf  laughed,  and  the  shadow  vanish- 
ed from  her  face,  as  Hilary  had  meant  it 
should.     She  only  sai  1,  caressing  her, 

"  Well,  my  pet,  never  mind.  I  hope  you 
will  have  a  real  sweetheart  some  day." 

"  I'm  in  no  hurry,  thank  you,  Johanna." 

But  tiow  was  heard  the  knock  after  knock 

of  the  little  boys  and  girls,  and  there  began 

dominating  youth.     From  the  very  first  therelthat  monotonous  daily  round  of  school  labor, 

was  a  smouldering  feud  between  him  and  Eli-|nsing  from  the  simplicities  of  c.  a,  t,  cat,  and 


zabeth.  Whether  she  overheard,  and  slowly 
began  to  comprehend  his  mocking  gibesabout 
the  "South  Sea  Islander,"  or  whether  her 
sullen  and  dogged  spirit  resisted  the  first  at 
tempts  the  lad  made  to  "  put  upon  her" — as 
he  did  upon  his  aunts,  in  small  daily  tyrannies 
— was  never  found  out ;  but  certainly  Ascott 
the  general  favorite,  found  little  favor  with  the 
new  servant.  She  never  answered  when  he 
"hollo'd"  for  her  ;  she  resisted  blacking  his 
boots  more  than  once  a  day  ;  and  she  obsti- 
nately  cleared   the  kitchen    fire-place  of  his 

messes,"  as  she  ignominiously  termed  va- 
rious pots  and  pans  belonging  to  what  he  call- 
ed his  '•  medical  studies." 

Although  the  war  was  passive  rather  than 
aggressive,' and  sometimes  a  source  of  private 
amusement  to  the  aunts,  still,  on  the  whole,  it 
was  a  relief  when  the  exciting  cause  of  it  de- 
parted ;  his  n*few  and  most  gentlemanly  port 
manteau  being  carried  down  stairs  by  Eliza 
beth  herself,  of  her  own  accord, \vith  an  air  of 
jheerful  alacrity,  foreign  to  her  mien  for  some 
weeks  past,  and  which.,  even  in  the  midst  of 
he  iolorous  parting,  amused  Hilary  ex* 
remely. 

"  1  think  that  girl  is  a  character,"  she  said 
ifrerward  to  Johanna.  "Any  how  she  has 
juriously  strong  likes  and  dislikes." 

"  You  may  say  that,  my  dear;  forshe  bright 
;ne  up  whenever  she  looks  at  you." 

Does  she?     Oh,  that  must  be  because  1 
iave  most  to  do  with  her.     It  is  wonderful 


lOWj  friendly  one  gets  over  sauce-pans  and 
jrooms  ;  and  what  reverence  one  inspires  in 
he  domestic  mind  when  one  really  knows 
iow  to  make  a  bed  or  a  pudding.'.' 

"  How  I  wish  you  had  to  do  neither !"  sigh- 
d  Johanna,  looking  fondly  at  the  bright  face 
ind  light,  little  figure  that  was  flitting  about, 
jutting  the  school-room  to  rights  befoie  the 
jupils  came  in. 

"Nonsense — I  don't  wish  any  such  thing. 
3oing  it  makes  me  not  a  whit  less  charming 
ind  lovely."  She  often  applied  these  adjec- 
ives  to  herself,  wiih  the  most  perfect  convic- 
ion  that  6he  was  uttering  a  fiction  patent  to 
very  body.     I  must  be  very  juvenile  also,  for 


ij,  o.  g.  dog — to  the  eublime  keightsof  Pmr.ock 
and  Lennie,  Telemaque  and  Latin  Delectus. 
No  loftier;  Stowbury  being  well  supplied  with 
first  class  schools,  and  having  a  vaaue  im- 
pression that  the  Misses  Leaf,  bom  ladies  and 
not  brought  up  as  governesses,  were  not  com- 
petent educators  except  of  very  small  child- 
ren. 

Which  was  true  enough  .fcntil  lately.  So 
Miss  Leaf  kept  contentedly  to  the  c.  a,  t,  cat, 
and  d,  o,  g,  dog.  ot  the  little  butchers  and  ba- 
kers, as  M'ss  Selina,  who  taught  only  sewing, 
and  came  into  the  school-room  but  little  du- 
ring the  day,  scornfully  termed  them.  *  The 
higl  er  branches  such  as  they  were,  she  left 
gradually  to  Hilary,  who,  of  late,  possibly 
out  of  sympathy  with  a  friend  of  hers,  had 
begun  to  show  an  actual  gift  for  teaching 
school.  . 

It  is  a  gift — all  will  allow  ;*a rid  chiefly  those 
who  have  it  not,  among  which  was  poor  Jo- 
hanna Leaf.  The  admiring  envy  with  which 
she  watched  Hilary,  moving  briskly  about 
from  class  toclass.with  a  word 'of  praise  toone 
and  rebuke  to  another,  keeping  ?  very  one's  at-* 
tention  alive,  spurring  on  the  dull,  controlling 
the  unruly,  and  exercising  over  every  member 
in  this  little  world  that  influence,  at  once  the 
.strongest  and  most  intangible  and  inexplicable 
—personal  influence — was  only  equaled  by  the 
way  in  v^iich,  at  pauses  in  the  day's  work, 
when  it  grew  dull  and  monotonous,  or  when 
the  stupidity  of  the  children  ruffled  her  own 
quick  temper  beyond  endurance,  Hilary  watch- 
ed Johanna. 

The  time  I  am  telling  of  now  is  long  ago. 
The  Stowbury  children,  who  were  then  little 
boys  and  girls,  are  now  fathers  and  mothers — 
doubtless  a  large  proportion  being  decent 
tradesfolk  in  Stowbury  still ;  though,  in  this 
locomotive  quarter,  many  must  have  drifted, 
elsewhere — where,  Heaven  knows!  But  not 
a  few  of  them  may  still  call  to  mind  Miss 
Leaf,  who  first  taught  them  their  letters — sit- 
ting in  her  corner  between  the  fire  and  the 
window,  while  the  blind  was  drawn  dr wn  to 
keep  out,  first  the  light  from  her  own  fading 
eyes,  and,  secondly,  the  districting  view  of 


'm  certain' the  fellow-passengpr  at  the  station  green  fields  and  trees  from  the  (youthful  eyes 
d-day  took  niefor  Ascorfs  sweetheart.  W.hefilby  her  side.  They  may  remember  still  her 
re  were  saving  good  by,  an  old  gentleman  who  dark  plain  dress  and  her  white  apron,  on 
at  next  him  was  particularly  sympathetic.  !whii;h  the  primers,  torn  and  dirty,  looked  half 
.nd  you  should  have  seen  how  indignantly iashaiued  to  lie;  and-above all,  her  sweet  face 
Uoott  replied,  "  It's  only  my  aunt !"  jand  sweeter  voice,  never  heard  in  any  thing 


14 


BIISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


sharper  than  that  grieved  tone  winch  signified 
their  being  "  naughty  chililren."  They  may 
retail  Her  'unwearied*  patience  with  the  yen 
dullest  and  most  wayward  t<f  them;  her  un 
failing  sympathy  with  even  infantile  pleasure 


teaching  her.  because  he  said,  she  learned  it 
la-ter  than  any  of  In*  grammar  school  boys. 
Sin-  had  forgotten  all  domestic  grievance*  in  a 
vird'on  of  Thetis  ahd  the  water-nymphs  ;  and 
was  repenting  to  herself,  first  in  the  sonorous 


Andi'thiuk  thWwill  acknowledge  Greek,  and  then  in  Popes  small  br.t  sweet 
that  Vhc'.ber  she  taught  then,  mucW  linlelEuglish,  that  catalogue  ot  ocean.. 
— in  this'  advancing 'age  it  might  he  thought 
jittJe— -Mfpf>  Leaf  taught  them  one  thing— to 


ending  With 


love  her.  Which,  as  lien  .Johnson  said  of  the 
Countess  of  Pembroke,  was  in  iiself  a  "  liberal 
education." 

Hilary,  too.  Often  when  Hilary's  younger 
and  more  resiles*  spirit  chafed  against  thc 
monolonv  o!'  her  life  :  when,  instead  of  wasting 
her  davs'iu  teaoliidg  small  children,  she  would 
have  liked  to  he  learning,  learning— every  .lay 
growing  wiser  find  cleverer,  and  stretching  out 
mto  that  bus.:,  bright,  active  world  oi  which 
Kobert  Lyon  had  told  her— then  the  sight  <>l 
Johanna's'  meek  face  bent  over  those  dim, 
spelling  hooks  would  at  oi  ce  rebuk"  and  com 
further.  She  felt,  after  all,  that  she  would 
not  mind  working  on  forever,  «?o  long  as  Jo 
hanna  stili  sat  there. 

Nevertheless,  tn.it  winter  seemed  to  her  very 
long  -especially  after  Ascott   was  gone.     Foi 
Johanna,    partly    lor  money. 
kindliness,  lund,  added  to   her  day's  work   foui 
.  evening's  a  week,  when  a  halt  educated  mothei 
of  one  of  her  little  pupils  came  to  he  »«*itight  to 
write  a  decen'f  ban  I.  and  to  keep  the  accounts 
of  her  shop.     Upon  which  Selina.   highly  in 
dignant.  had  taken    to  spending   ln«r  evenings 
in  the  school  room,  interrupting  Hilary's  soli 
tary  studies  there  by  many  a  lamentation  over 
the  peaceful   days   when   they   all   sat  in  the 
kitchen  together   and    kept  no    servant.      For 
Selina  was"  one  ot   those   who   never   sa^  tin- 
bright  side  of  any  thing  till  it  had  gone  by. 

'•I'm  sure-  I  don't  krow  how  w*are  to  man 
age -with  Elizabeth!     That  greedy — " 
14  Anil  growing."  suggested  Hilary. 
"  1  sav  that  greeds  girl  eats  a«  much  as  an\ 
two  of  us.     A  nd  as  for  her  clothes — her  moth- 
er does  not  keep  her  even  decent.'* 

"She  would  find  it  difficult  upon  three 
pounds  a  sear." 

"  Hilary,  how  dare  you  contradict  me  !  1 
am  onlv  stating  a  plain  tact." 

•'  And  I  ■another.  But,  indeed,  I  don't  want 
to  talk.  Selina." 

''  You  never  dr.,  except  when  you  arp  wished 
to  be  silent  ;  and  then  your  tongue  goes  like 
anv  race  horse." 

'•Does  it?     Well,  like  Gilpin's, 

'  It  carri*  uviplit.  it  rides  a  race, 
ITtu  fo;  .;  th'iixnnd  pntind?' 

—  an<l  1   onlv   wish    it    were.      Heigh  ho!   if  1 
coul  I  hut  earn  a  thousand  pounds  !" 
Selina  was  i-io  vexed  to  replv:   am 
quiet  minutes  Hilarv  Tient   over    her 


"  Black  Janiraand  Janaisa  fair, 
And  Aniatheia  with  her  amber  hair." 

'.'  Black,  did  you  say  ?  I'm  sure  she  wasai 
black  as  a  chimney  sweep  all  today.  An, 
her  pinafore 

••  Her  what?     Oh.  Elizabeth,  you  mean— 

'••  Her  pinafore  had  three  rents  in  it,  whicl 
she  never  ll'inks  ot  mending  though  1  gavi 
her  needles  and  threat!  myself  a  week  ago 
But  she  does  not  know  how  to  use  them  an; 
more  tnan  a  baby." 

••  Possibly  nobody  'ever  taught  her. 

"  Yes  ;  she  went  for  a  year  to  the  Nation 
School,  she  says,  and  learned  both  markit 
and  sewing." 

•'  Perhaps  she  has    never    practiced    the 
since.     She  could  hardly  have  had  time,  wi' 
„  all  the  little  Hands  to  look  after,  as  hei  ntorh 
and  paTtlr  for  >"ys  "he  did.     All  the  better  for  us.     It  maki 


0-r  fivt 
Homer. 


which  Mr.  Lyou  had  taken  such  pleasure  in 


her  wonderfully  patient  with  our  troublesoi 
I. rats.  It  wns'only  today,  when  that  h« 
Utile  Jackv  Smith  hurt  himself  so,  that  I  6 
Elizabeth  "lake  him  into  the  kitchen,  wash 
{'are  and  hands,  and  cuddle  him  up  and  co 
fort  him.  quite  motherly.  Her  forte  is  ( 
lainlv  chililren." 

"  You  alwavs  find   something   to  say 
her." 

"  I  should   be  ashamed  if  (I  could  not  h 
something  to  s*.y  tor  any  body  who  is  alw 
abused." 

Another  pause— and  then  Selina  returne 

the  charge. 

'•  Have  von  ever  observed,  my  dear,  the 
traordinary  vwiy  phe  has  of  fastening,  or  ra 
cr.  not  fastening  her  gown  behind?     She  jB 
hooks  it  together  at  the  vop  and  at  the  wal 
while  between  there  is  a — " 

'•  Hiatus  vilrfedcjlcndus.     Ob  dear  me  ! 
.-hall  I    do?     '^flina.    how  can    I  help  it 
girl  of  fifteen  years  old  is  not  a  paragon  ot 
lection?   as  of  course  we'  all  are,  if  we  ( 
could  find  it  out." 

And  Hilary,  in  despair,  rose  to  carry 
candle  and  books  into  the  chilly  but  quiet 
room,  biting  her  lips  the  while,  lest  she  »h 
he  tempted  to  say  something  which  S' 
calle.l  '- impertinent."  wjiich  peihnpsit 
from  a  younger  sister  to  an  elder.  I  dol 
-ei  Hilary'up  as  a  perfect  character.  Throlj 
-orrow  only  do  people  goon  to  perfection  :■ 
...now.  in  its  true  meaning,  the  chenshedB 
had  never  known. 

Put  that  night,   talking  to  Johanna  he& 
they  went  to  bleep— they  had  always  alepll 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


15 


Sether  since   the   time  when  the  elder  pisterlmust  have  a  new  gown,  and  you  Timet  give 


used  to  walk  the  mom  of  nights  with  iliat  pn 
ling,  motherless  infant  in    her  arms — Hilary 
anxiously    started  the   question  of  the  litt'e 
jervant. 

"I  am  afraid  I  vexed  Selina,  greatly  ahout 
her  to-night  ,  and  yet  what  can  one  do?  Se 
lina  is  so  very   unjust — alwa-ys  expecting  im 


Elizabeth  ymr  brown  merino.  ' 

Hilary  laughed,  and  replied  not. 

Now  it  might  be  a  pathetic  indication  of  a 
girl  who  had  very  few  clothes,  tint  Hilary  had  • 
a  superstitious  .weakness  concerning  hers. — 
^  very  dress  hud  its  own  peculiar,  chronifcle  of 
the  scenes  where  it  had  been,  the  enjoyments 
she  had  shared  in  it.     Particular  dres-eswere 


possibilities.  She  would  like  to  have  Eliza 
beth  at  once  a  first  rate  cook,  a  finished  special  memorial*  ot  berloves,  her  pleasures, 
house-maid,  and  an  attentive  ladvV  maid,  and  her  little  passing  pains;  a«  long  as  a  bit  re- 
mained of  the  poor  old  tabric  the  sight  ot  it 
recalled  them  all. 

This  brown   merino — in  which  she  had  sat 


all  witluMt  being  taught !  Mie  gives  hei 
things  to  do.  neither  waiting  to  see  ir'theVare 
comprehended  by  her,  nor  showing  her  how 
to  do  them.     Of  "con  se  the  girl  stands  gaping  »wo  whole  winters  over  her  Greek  and  Latin 


and  staring    and   does  not  do  them,  or  iioes 
them  so  badly,  that  she  gets  a  thorough  scold 
ing." 

"  la  she  very  stupid,  do  yoi^think?"  asked 
Johanna,  in  unconscious  appeal  to  her  pet's 
stronger  judgment.  ♦. 

"  No,  I  don't.  Far  from  stupid  ;  only  very 
ignorant,  and— you  would  hardly  believe  it — 
very  nervous,  Selina  frightens  her.  She  gets 
on  extremely  well  with  me.". 

"  Anv  one  would,  mv  dear.  That  is,"  added 
-the  conscientious  elder   sister,    .still  aftaid  ofiw,,lle.  Johanna   planned  and  rep lanneu—  cal 


by  Hubert  Lyon's  side  which  lie  lia-1  once 
»toppe,d  to  touch  and  notice,  saying  what  a 
pretty  color  it  was.  and  tiow  be  liked  sofi- 
f"el ing  dresses  tor  women — to  cut  up  this  old 
brown  merino  seemed  to  hurt  lierso  she  could 
ajii'ost  have  ci  ied 

Vet  what  would  Johanna  think  if  the  refu- 
sed? And  there  was  Elizabeth  absolutely  in 
want  of  clothes.  "  I  must  be  growing  very 
wicked,"  thought  poor  Hilary. 

She  lav   a  good  while   siferst   in   the  dark, 


making  the  "child"  vain,  "any  one  whom  you 
took  pains  with.  But  do  you  think  you  can 
ever  make  any  thing  out  of  Elizabeth  ?  Her 
month  eirdd  to  morrow.  Shall  we  lei  her 
go?" 

"And  perhaps  get  in  her  place  a  story-tellpr 
— a  tale-bearer — even  a  thief.     No.  no;  let  us 

'  Rather  boar  the  ills  w?  have,  •    .'     • 

Than  fly  to  others  that  we  know  not  of;' 

and  a  thief  wo  lid  be  worse  than  even  a  South 
Sea  Islander." 

"  Oh  yes,  my  dear,"  said   Johanna,  with  a 
shiver. 

'  "By-the-bv,  the  first  step  in  the  civilization 
of  the  Polynesians  was  giving  them  clothes. 
And  I  have  heard  say  that  crime  and  rag^ 
often  go  together ;  that  a    man  unconsciously 


ating  how.  even  with  the  addition  of  an 
old  cape  of  her  own,  .which  was  out  oi'  the 
same  piece,  this  hapless  gown  could  be  made 
to  fit  the  gaunt  frame  of  Elizabeth  Hand. — 
Her  poor  kindly  brain  was  in  the  last  extrem- 
ity of  muddle,  when  Hilary,  with  a  desperate 
effort,  dashed  in  to  ihe  rescue,  and  soon  made 
all  clear,  contriving  body,  skirt,  sleeves  and  all 

"  You  have  the  best  hrad  in  the  world,  my 
love.  1  don't  know  whatever  I  should  do 
without  von." . 

•'Luckily  you  are  never  likely  to  be  tried. 
So  give  me  a  kiss;  and  good-night,  Johanna." 

I  misdoubt  many  will  sav  I  am  writing 
about  small,  ridiculously  small,  things.  Yet 
is  not  the  whole  of  life  made  up  of  infinitesi- 
mally  small  things  ?  And  in  its  strange  and 
solemn  mosaic,  the  full   pattern   of  which  we 


feels  that  he  owes  something  to  himself  and-  ntfver  8ee  clearly  till  looking  back  on  it  from 
eocietv  in  the  wav  of  virtue'  wln-n  he  has  a'fi,r  awav  dare'**  eav  of  any  thing  which  the 
clean  face  and  clean  shirt,  and  a  decent  coat  han<l  of  Eternal  Wisdom  has  put  together,  thai. 


on.     Suppose  we  try  the  experiment,  of  dress 
ing  Elizabeth.     How  many  old  gowns  have 
we?" 

The  number  was  few.     Nothing  in  the  Leaf 
family  was  ever  cast  off  till  its  very  last  ex 
tremity  of  decay  ;  the  talent  that 

"  Gars  auM  claes  I<x>k  amaist  as  gurle  '*  the  now" 


it  is  too  common  or  too  snfall  1 


,  CHAPTER  IV. 

While   her   anxious  mistresses   were  thus 
talking  her  over  the  servant  lav  on  her  hum- 


being  Bpeciaiiy  possessed  by  Hilary.  She  hie  bed  and  slept.  They'  knew  she  did.  for 
counted  over  hVr  own  wardrobe  and  Iohan-;they  heard  her  heavy  breathing  througn  the 
na's  but  found  nothing  that  could  be  spared,  thin  partition  wall.  Whether,  as  Hilary  s-.ig- 
-'"  Yes,  my  "love,  there  ip  one  thing.  Yon  gested.  she  Has  too  ignorant  to  notice  the  < 
certainly  shall  never  put  on  that  old  brown  of  the  week,  or  montn',  or.  as  Seliiia  thought., 
toeriuo  again  ;  though  you  have  laid  it  so  care-  too  stupid  to  care  for  any  thing  beyond  eat- 
fully  by,  as  if  you  meant  it  to  come  out  as  ing,.  drinking,  and  sleeping.  Elizabeth  mani- 
Sffii  8f  IF**  VM  wi»*r»    ^0>  iiliwy,  you  feated  y.o  au*iety  about  ^erdelfor  her  destiny. 


16 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


She  went  about  her  work  just  as  usual ;  a!" She  is  very  handy  when  one  is  ill,"  even 
little  quicker  and  readier,  now  she  was  be-ISelina  allowed. 

coming  familiarized  to  it ;  butshesaid  nothing.;  '"  And  I  assure  you  I  was  talking  most 
She  was  undoubtedly  a  girl  of  silent  and  un-;kindly  to  her;  about  the  duties  of  her  posi- 
uemonstrative  nature.  •  tion,  and  how  she  ought  to  dress  better,  and 

"Sometimes  still  waters  run  deep,"  saidlbe  more  civil  behaved,  or  else  she nevercould 
Miss  Hilary.  iexpeet  to  keep  any  place.    And  she  stood  in  her. 

"Nevertheless,  there  are  such  things  asjusual  sulky  way  of  listening,  never  answering 
canals,"  replied  Johanna  "  When  do  youia  word — with  her  back  to  me,  staring  right 
mean  to  have  your  little  talk  with  her?"  '       jont  of  window.     And  I  had  just  said,  'Eliza- 


Hilary  did  not  know,  She  was  sitting 
rather  more  tired  than  usual,  by  the  school 
room  fire,  the  little  people  having  just  depart 
ed  for  their  ^Saturday  half-holiday.  Before 
clearing  oft' the  debris  which  they  alwsy*  left 
behind,  she  stood  a  minute  at  the  window, 
refreshing  her  eyes  with  the  green  field  oppo 
site,  and  the  far-away  wood,  crowned  by  a  dim 
white  monument,  visible  in  fair  weather,  on 
which  those  bright  brown  eyes  had  a  tri'ck  ol 
lingering,  even  in  the  middle  of  school  hours. 
For  the  wood  and  the  hill  beyond  belonged  to 
a  nobleman's  "show"  estate,  five  miles  off— 
the  only  bit  of  real  landscape  beautv  that  Ilil 
ary  had  ever  belreld.  There,  during  the.taat 
holidays  but  one,  she,  her  sisters,  her  nephew, 
and,  by  his  own  special  request,  Mr.  Lyon, 
had  ppent  a  whole  long,  merry,  midsummer 
day.  ,She  wondered  whether  such  a  day  would 
ever  come  again! 

But  spring  was  coming  again,  any  how  ;  the 
field  looked  smiling  and  green,  specked  here 
and  there  with  white  dots  which,  she  opined, 
might  possibly  be  daisies.  She  half  wished 
she  was  not  too  oldanddignified  to  dart  across 
the  road,  leap  the  sunk  ft?nce.  and  run  to  see. 

"I  think,  Johanna — Hark,  what  can  that 
be?" 

For  at  this  instant  somebody  came  tearing 
down  the  stairs,  opened  the  frontdoor,  an.l  did 
— exactly  what  Hilary  had  just  been  wishing 
to  do. 

"It's  Elizabeth,  without  her  bonnet  or 
shawl,  with  something  white  flying  behind 
hpr.  How  she  is  dashing  across  the  field  ! 
What  can  she  be  after?  #  Just  look. 

But  loud  screams  from  Selina's  room,  the 
front  one,  where  she  had  been  lying  in  bed  all 
morning,  quite  obliterated  the" little  servant 
from  their  minds.  The  two  sisters  ran  hastily 
up  stairs. 

Selina  was  sitting  up,  in  undisguised  terror 
and  agitation.  • 

"Stop  her  !  Hold  her  !  I'm  sure  she  has 
gone  mad.  Lock  the  door,  or  she'll  come 
back  and  murder  us  all." 

"Who?  Elizabeth!  Was  she  here?  What 
has  been  the  matter  ?" 

But  it  was  some  time. before  they  could 
make  out  anything.  At  las'  they' gathered 
that  Elizabeth  had  been  waiting  upon  Mi^s 


heth,  my  girl' — indeed,  Hilary1(iI  was  talking 
to  her  in  my  very  kindest  way—"  9  ' 

"  I've  no  doubt  of  it — but  do  get  on." 

"  When  she  suddenly  turned  round,  snatch- 
ed a  clean  towel  from  a  chair  back,  and  an- 
other from  my  head — actually  from  my  very 
head,'  Johanna — and  out  bhe  ran.  I  called 
after  her,  but  she  took  no  more  notice  than  if 
I  had  bepn  a£one.  And  she  left  the  door 
wide  open — blowing  upon  me.  Oh,  dear  ;  she 
has  given,  me  my  death  of  cold."  And  Selina 
broke  out  into  piteous  complainings. 

Her  elder  sister  soothed  her  as  well  as  she 
could,  while  Hilary  ran  down  to  the  frontdoor 
•and,  looked,  an/i  enquired  every  where  for 
Elizabeth.  She  was  not  to  be  seen  on  field  or 
road  ;  and  along  that  quiet  terrace  not  a  soul 
had  even  perceived  her  quit  the  house. 

"It's  a  very  odd  thing,"  said  Hilary,  return- 
ing. "What  can  have  come  over  the  girl  ? 
You  are  6ure,  Selina,  that  you  said  nothing 
which — " 

"  Now  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say. 
You  are  going  to  blame  me.  Whatever  hap- 
pens in  this  l.ouse  you  always  blame  me.  And 
perhaps  you're  right.  Perhaps  I  am  a  nuis- 
ance— a  burden — would  be  far  better  dead  and 
buried.     [  wish  I  w%re!" 

When  Selina  took  this  tack,  of  course  her 
sisters  were  silenced.  They  quited  her  a  lit- 
tle, and  then  went  down  and  searched  the 
houpe  all  over. 

All  wasin  order;  at  least  in  as  much  order 
as  was  to  be  expected  the  hour  bofore  dinner. 
The  bowl  of  half-peeled  potatoes  stood  on  the 
back  kitchen  "sink;"  the  roast  was  down  be- 
fore the  fire  ;  the  knives'  were  ready  for  clean- 
ing. Evidently  Elizabeth  flight  hao1  not-been 
premeditated. 

"It's  all  nonsense  about  her  going  mad. 
She  has  is  sound  a  head  as  I  have,"  said 
Hilary  to  Johanna,  who  began  to  look  serious- 
ly uneasy.  "  She  might  have  run  away  in  a 
fit  of  passion,  certainly  ;  and  yet  that  is  im- 
probable; her  temper  is  more  sullen  than 
furious.  And  having  no  lack  of  common 
sense  she  must  know  that  dping  a  thing  like 
this  is  enough  to  make  her  lose  her  place  at 
once."  • 

Yes."  ?aid  Johanna,  mournfully,  "  Fm 
afraid  after  this  she  must  go." 

"Wait,  and  set  what  she  has  to  say  forher- 


Seliua,  putting  vinegar  clothe  on  her  head ,jaelf,"  pleaded  Hilary.    "She  will  burely  be, 
and  doiog  varioue  things  about  tue  room.lbeok  io  two  or  tore*  qHputep."     • 


MISTUESS  AND  MAID. 


IT 


But  she  was  nor,  nor  even  in  two  or  three! fears  were  true,  and  the  girl  had  really  gone 
hours.  mad;  but  Hilary's  quicker  perceptions  jurap- 

Her  mistresses' annoyance  became  disp;  a,-  ed  at  a  different  conclusion, 
ure,  and  that  again  subsided  into  serious  ap-  "  Quiet  yourself,  Elizabeth,"  said  she,  fa- 
prehension.  EvenSelina  ceased  talking  over  king  a  firm  hold  of  her  shoulder,  and  making 
and  over  the  incident  which,  gave  the  sole  her  sit  down,  when  the  rolled-up  apron  drop- 
information  to  be  arrived  at;  rose,  dressed, 'ped,  and  showed  itself  all  covered  with  blood 
and  came  down  to  the  kitchen.    There,  after  jspots.    Selina  screamed  outright. 


long  and  anxious  consultation,  Hilary,  ob- 
serving that  "Somebody  had  better  do  some- 
thing," began  to  prepare  the  dinner  as  in  pre- 
Elizabethan  days  ;  but  the  three  ladies'  appe- 
tites were  small.  # 

About  three  in  the  afternoon,  Hilary, giving 
utterance  to  the  hidden  alarm  ot  all,  saia — 

"I  think,  sisters,  I  had^  better  go  down  as 
quickly  as  I  can  to  Mrs 


Then  Elizabeth  seemed  to  become  half  con- 
scious that  she  had  done  something  blamable, 
or  was  at  least  a  suspected  character.  Her 
warmth  of  manner  faded;  the  sullen  cloud  oi 
dogged  resistance  to  authority  was  risiug  in 
her  poor  duty  face,  when  Hilary,  beginning 
with,  "  Now,  we  are  not  going  to  scold  you  ; 
but  we  must  hear  the  reason  of  this,"  contri- 
ved by  adroit  questions,  and  not  a  few  of  them, 
This  agreed,  she  stood  consulting  with  Jo-  to  elicit  the  whole  story, 
hanna  as  to  what  could  possibly  be  said  to  the  It  appeared  that,'  while  standing  at  Miss 
mother  in  case  that  unfortunate  child  had  not  Selina's  window,. Elizabeth  had  watched  three 
gone  home,  when  the  kitchen  door  opened,  little  boys,  apparently  engaged  in  a  very  favor- 
and  the  culprit  appeared.  ite  amusement  of  little  boys  in  that  field,  go- 

Not,  however,  with  the  least  look  of  a  cub  ing  quickly  behind  a  horse;  and  pulling  out 
prit.  Hot  she  was,  and  breathless  ;  and  with  tile  longest  and  handsomest  hairs  in  his  tail 
her  hah;  down  about  her  ears,  and  her  apron  to  make  fishing  lines  of.  She  saw  the  animal 
rolled  up  round  her  waist,  presented  a  most  give  a  kick,  and  two  of  the  boys  ran  away; 
forlorn  and  untidy  aspect;  but  her  eyes  were' the  other  did  not  stir.     For  a  minute  or  soBhe 


bright,  and  her  countenance  glowing. 

She  took  a  towel  frorti  under  her  arm.— 
"There's  one  on  'em — and  you'll  get  back — 
the  other — when  it's  washed." 

Having  blurted  out  this,  6he  leaned  against 
the  wall,  trying  to  recover  her  breath. 


noticed  a  black  lump  lying  in  the  grass  ;  then, 
with  the  quick  instinct  for  which  nobody  had 
ever  given  her  credit,  she  guessed  what  had 
happened,  and  did  immediately  the  wisestand 
only  thing  possible  under  the  circumstances, 
namely,  to  snatch  up  a  towel,  run  across  the 


Elizabeth !  Where'have  you  been  ?  How  field,  bind  up  the  child's  head  as  well  as  she 


dared  you  go  ?  Your  behavior  is  disgraceful 
— most  disgraceful,  I  say.  Johanna,  why 
don't  you  speak  to  your  servant  ?"  (When, 
for  remissness  in  reproving  others,  the  elder 
sister  herself  fell  under  reproof,  it  was  always 
emnhatically  "your  sister" — "your  nephew" 
— "your  servant."). 

But,   for  once,  Miss  Selina's   sharp  voice 


could,  and  carry  it,  bleeding  and  insensible,  to 
the  nearest  doctor,  who  lived  nearlv  a  mile 
off. 

She  did  not  tell — and  they  only  found  it  out 
afterward — how  she  had  held  the  boy  while 
under  the  doctor's  hands,  the  skull  being  so 
badly  fractured  that  the  frightened  mother 
fainted  at  the  sight  :  how  she  had  finally  car- 


failed  to  bring  the  customary  sullen  look  to.ried  him  homeland  left  him  comfortably  set- 
Elizabeth's  face,  and  when  Miss  Leaf,  in  her  tied  in  bed,  his  senses  returned,  and  his  life 


milder  tones,  asked  where  she  had  been,  she 
answered  unhesitatingly — 

"I've  been  down  the  town." 

"  Down  the  town  !"  the  three  ladies  cried, 
in  one  chorus  of  astonishment. 

"  I've  been  as  quick  as  I  could,  missis.  -.  I 
runned  all  the  way  there  and  back ;  but  it  was 
a  good  step,  and  he  was  some'at  heavy,  though 
he  is  but  a  little  'un." 

"  He!  who  on  earth  is  he,  ?" 


saved. 

"  Ay,  my  arms  do  ache  above  a  bit,"  she 
said,  in  answer  to  Miss  Leaf's  questious.  "He 
wasn't  quite  a  baby — nigh  upon  twelve,  I  reck- 
on ;  but  then  he  was  very  small  "of  his  age.  And 
he  looked  just  as  if  he  was  dead — and  he  bled 
so." 

Here,  just  for  a  second  or  two,  the  color  left 
the  "big  girl's  lips,  and  she  trembled  a  little, 
Miis  Leaf  went  to  the  kitchen  cupboard,  and 
"Deary  me  !  I  never  thought  of  axing  ;  butjtbok  out  their  only  bottle  of  wine — adminis- 
tered in  rare  closes,  exclusively  as  medicine. 

"  Drink  this,  Elizabeth ;  and  then  go  and 
wash  your  face  and  eat  your  dinner.  We  will 
talk  to  you  by-and-by." 

Elizabeth  looked  up  with  a  long,  wistfull 


his  mother  lives  in  Hall  street.  Somebody 
saw  me  carrying  him  to  the  doctor,  and  went 
and  told  her.  Oh  !  h'e  was  welly  killed,  Miss 
Leaf — the  doetor  said  so ;  but  he'll  do  now, 
and  you'll  get>  your  towel  clean  washed  to- 
morrow." 

While  Elizabeth  spoke  so  incoherently,  and 
with  such  unwonted  energy  and  excitement, 
JoBanoa  looked  as  if  she  thought  her  sister's 
C 


stare   of  intense  surprise,   and   then   added, 
"  Have  I  done  any  thing  wrong1,  missis  V 

"  I  did  uot  say  so.   But  drink  this ;  and  don't 
talk,  child." 


18 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


She  was  obeyed.  By-and-by  Elizabeth  dis- 
appeared into  the  back  kitchen,  emerged 
thence  with  a  clean  face,  hands,  and  apron, 
and  went  about  her  afternoon  business  as 
if  nothing  had  happened. 


still  more  difficult  to  break  through  the  stiff 
bairiers  which  see'meTi  to  rise  up  between  her, 
a  gentlewoman  well  on  in  years,-  and  this 
coar.se  working  girl.  She  felt,  as  she  often 
complained,  that  with  the  kindest  intentions, 


Her  mistresses'  threatened  "talk"  with  her  she  did  not  quite  know  how   to  talk  to  Eliza- 
never  came  about.     What,  indeed,  could  they  beth. 
say?     No  doubt  the  little  servant  had  broken      ''My  sister  means,"  said    Hilary,  "  that  as 


the  strict  letter  of  domestic  law  by  running  off 
in  that  .highly  eccentric  and  inconvenient 
way  ;  but,  as  Hilary  tried  to  explain  by  a  se- 
ries of  most  ingenious  ratiocinations,  she  had 
fulfilled,  in  the  spirit  of  it,  the  very  highest 
law — that  of  charity.  She  had  also  shown 
prompt  courage,  decision,  practical  and  pru- 
dent forethought,  and  above  all,  entire  self- 
forgetfulness. 

"  And'  I  should  like  to  know,"  said  Mies 
Hilar)',  warming  with  her  subject,  "  if  those 
are  not  the  very  qualities  that  goto  constitute  a 
hero." 

"But  we  don't  want  a  hero;  we  want  'a 
maid  of-all  work." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  we  want,  Selina.  ]^e 
want  a  woman;  that  is,  a  girl  with  the  making 


we  are  not  likely  to  have  little  boys  half  killed 
in  the  field  every  day,  she  trusts  you  will  not 
be  running  away  again  as  you  did  this  morn- 
ing. She  feels  sure  that  you  would  not  do 
such  a  thing,  putting  us  all  to  so  great  annoy- 
ance and  uneasiness,  for  any  less  cause  than 
such  as  happened  to-dav.  You  promise  > 
that?" 

"  Yes,  Miss  Hilary." 

"Then  we  quite  forgive  you  as  regards  our- 
selves. ■  Nay" — feeling  in  spite  of  Selina's 
warning  nudge,  that  she  had  hardly  been  kind 
enough — "  we  rather  praise  than  blame  you, 
Elizabeth.  And  if  you  like  to  stay  with  us 
and  will  do  your  best  to  improve,  we  are  will- 
ing to  keep  you  as  our  servant." 

"Thank    vou    ma'am.     Thank  vou,   Miss 


of  a  good  woman  in  her.  If  we  can  find  that.  Hilary.  Yes,  I'll  stop.'' 
all  the  rest  will  follow.  For  my  part,  I  would 
rather  take  this  child,  rough  as  she  is,  but 
with  her  truthfulness,  conscientiousness,  kind- 
liness of  heart,  and  evident  capability  of  both 
self-control  andself-devotedness,  than  the  most 
finished  servant  we  could  find.  My  advice  is 
— keep  her." 

This  settled  the  matter,  since  it  was  a  cu- 
rious fact  that  the  "  advice"  of  the  youngest 
Miss  Leaf  was,  whether  they  knew  it  or  not. 
almost. equivalent  to  a  family  ukase. 


When  Elizabeth  had  brought  in  the  tea- 
things,  which  she  did  with  especial  care,  ap- 
patently  wishing  to  blot  out  the  memory  01 
the  morning's  escapade  by  astonishingly  good 
behavior  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  Miss  Leaf 
called  her,  and  asked  if  she  knew  that  her 
month  of  trial  ended  this  day? 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  with  the  strict  tormal 
courtesy,  soVnething  between  that  of  the  old- 
v  or  Id  family  domestic — as  her  mother  migh 


I 

have  been  to  the  Miss  Elizabeth  Something 
she  was  named  after — and  the  abrupt  "  dip" 
of  the  modern  National  school  girl;  which 
constituted  Elizabeth  Hand's  sole  experience 
of  manners. 

"  If  you  had  not  been  absent  I  shoull-have 
gone  to  sppak  with  your  motbei  to-day «  In- 
deed Miss  Hilary  was  going  when  you  came 
in  ;  but  it  would  have  been  with  a  very  differ- 
ent Intention  from  what  we  had  iri  the  murn- 
ing.  However,  that  is  not  likely  to  happen 
again." 

"  Eh?"  said  Elizabeth,  inquiringly. 

Mirs  Leaf  hesitated,  and  looked  uneasily  at 
her  two  sisters.  It  was  always  a  trial  to  her 
shy  nature  to  find  herself  the  mouth-piece  >of 
the  family ;  aud  this  ertme  shyness  made  it 


She  said  no  more — but  sighed  a  great  sigh, 
as  if  her  mind  were  relieved — ("So,"  thought 
Hilary,  "she  was  not  so  indifferent  to  us  as 
we  imagined" — and  bustled  back  into  her  kit- 
chen. 

"Now  for  the  clothing  of  her,"  observed 
Leaf,  also  looking  much  relieved  that 
the  decision  was  over.  "  You  know  what  we 
agreed  wpon;  and  there  is  certainly  no  time 
to  be  lost.  Hilary,  my  dear.,  suppose  you 
bring  down  your  brown  merino?"   • 

Hilary  went  without  a  word. 

People  who  inhabit  the  same  house,  eat, 
sit,  and  sleep  together — loving  one  another 
and  sympathizing  with  one  another,  ever  BO 
deeply  and  dearly — nevertheless  inevitably 
have  momentary  seasons  when  the  intense 
solitude  in  which  we  all  live,  and  must  expect 
ever  to  live,  at  the  depth  of  our  being,  forces 
itself  painfully  upon  the  heart.  Johanna  must 
have  had  many  such  seasons  when  Hilary  was 
a  child  ;  Hilary  had  one  now. 

She  unfolded  the  old  frock,  and  took  out  of 

ck,ct,  a  hiding  place  at  once  'little  likely 

to  be  searched,  and  harmless  1l  discovered,    ;■, 

poor  little  memento  of  that  happy  midsummer 

day. 

•■  1>,  "/■   Miss   Hilary.  theti,   I 

Yours  truly,  Robert  I 

The  only  scrap  of  note  she  had  ever  re- 
ceived ;  he  always  wrote  to  Johanna  ;  as  reg- 
ularly as  ever,  or  more  •-<>,  now  Ascott  was 
gone;  but  only  to  Johanna.  She  read  over 
the  twolinesj  wondered  where  she  should  keep 
them  now  that  Johanna  might  not  notice 
them;  and  then  recoiled,  as  if  the  secret  were 
a  wrong  to  that  dear  sister  who  loved  her  so 


well. 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


10 


late  idleness,  so  absorbed  that  she  seemed  not 
to  bear  Hilary's  approach. 

"  I  did  not  know  vou  could  write,  Eliza- 
beth." • 

"  No  more  T  can,"  was  the  answer,  in  the 
most  doleful  of  voices.  "  It  bean't  no  good. 
I've  forgotten  all  about  it.  T  letters  wonna 
join." 

"  Let  me  look  at  them."  And  Hilary  tried 
to  contemplate  gravely  tbe  scrawled  and  blot- ' 
ted  page,  which  looked  very  much  as  if  a  large 
spider  had  walked  into  the  ink  bottle,  and  then 
walked  out  again  on  a  tour  of  investigation. 
'What  did  you  want  to  write?"  asked  she, 
suddenly. 

Elizabeth  blushed  violently.  "  It  was  the 
woman.  Mrs.  Cliffe,  t'  little  lad's  mother,  you 
know :  she  wanted  somebody  to  write  to  her 
husband  as  is  at  work  at  Birmingham,  and  1 
said  I  would.  I'd*  learned  at  the  National, 
but  I've  forgotten  it  all.  I'm  just  aa  Miss 
Selina  says — I'm  good  for  nowt." 

"Come,  come,  never  fret :"  Tor  there  was  a 
sort  of  choke  in  the  girl's  voice.  "There's 
many  a  good  person  who  never  learned  to 
write.,  But. I  don't  see  why  you  should  nor. 
learn.     Shall  I  teach  you?" 

Utter  amazement,  beaming  gratitude,  suc- 
ceeded one  another,  plain  as  light,  in  Eliza- 
beth's eyes,  but  she  only  said,  "  Thank  you, 
Miss  Hilary." 

"Very  well.  I  have  brought  you  an  old 
gown  of  mine,  and  was  going  to  show  you  how 
to  mike  it  up  for  yourself,  but  I'll  look  over 
your  writing  instead.  Sit  down  and  let  me 
see  what  you  can  do." 

In  a  state  of  nervous  trepidation,  pitiful  to 
behold,  Elizabeth  took  the  pen.  Terrible 
scratches  resulted;  blots  innumerable:  and 
one  fatal  deluge  of  ink,  which  startled  from 
their  seats  both  mistress  and  maid,  and  made 
Hilary  thankful  that  she  had  taken  off  tier 
better  gown  foi  a  common  one,  as,  with  sad 
thriftiness,  the  Misses  Leaf  always  did  of  eve- 
nings. 

When  Elizabeth  saw  the  mischief  she  had 
done,  her  contrition  and  humility  were  un- 
bounded. "  No,  Miss  Hilary,  you  can't  make 
nothin'  of  me.  I  be  too  stupid,  I'll  give  it 
up." 

"  Nonsense  !"  And  the  bright*active  little 
lady  looked  steadily  into  the  heavy  face  of  this 
undeveloped  girl,  half  child,  half  woman,  until 
some  of  her  own  spirit  seemed  to  be  reflected 
always  busy,  over  the  perpetual  toil  of  thoseUhere.  Whether  the  excitement  of  the  morn- 
who  have  not  yet  learned  the  mysterious  art  of ■inghad  roused  her,  or  her  mistresses'  kindness 
arrangement  and  order,  nor,  as  sometimes. j had  touched  Elizabeth's  heart,  and — as  in 
hanging  sleepily  ovor  the  kitcher,  fire,  waiting  most  women — the  heart  was  the  key  to  the 
for  bedtime:  but  actually  sitting,  sitting  down  [intellect  ;  or  whether  the- gradual  daily  influ- 
at  the  table.  Her  candle  was  flaring  on  one  ence  of  her  changed  life  dnring.the  last  month 
side  of  her  :  on  thf  other  was  the  school  room  had  been  taking  effect,  now  for  the  first  time 
inkstand,  a  scrap  of  waste  paper,  and  a  pen  to  appear — certain  it  is  that  Hilary  had  never 
But  she  was  not  .writing;  she  sat  with  heriperceived  boibre  what  an  extiomelv  intelligent 
head  on  her  hands,  in  an  attitute  of  disconso-jface  it  was ;  what  good  sense  was  indicated  in 


"  But  nothing  make8  me  love  her  less  ;  no- 
thing ever  could.  She  thinks  me  quite  happy, 
as  I  am  ;  and  vet — oh,  if  I  did  not  miss  him 
so!" 

And  the  aching,  aching  want  which  some- 
times came  over  began  again.  Let  us  not 
blame  her.  God  made  all  our  human  needs. 
God  made  love.  Not  merely  affection  but 
actualWocir — the  necessity  to  seek  and  find  out 
some  other  being,  not  another  but  the  com- 
plement of  one's  self — the  "  other  half,"  who 
brings  rest  and  strength  for  weakness,  sympa 
thy  in  aspiration,  and  tenderness  for  tender- 
ness, as  no  other  person  ever  can.  Perhaps, 
even  in  marriage,  this  love  is  seldom  found, 
and  it  is  possible  in  all  lives  to  do  without  it. 
Johanna  had  done  so.  But  then  she  had  been 
young,  and  was  now  growing  old  ;  and  Hilary 
was  only  twenty,  with  a  long  life  before  her. 
Poor  child,  let  us  not  blame  her  ! 

Site  was  not  in  the  least  sentimental,  her 
natural  disposition  inclining  her  to  be.  more 
than  cheerful,  actually  gay.  She  soon  recov- 
ered herself,  and  when,  a  short  time  after,  she 
stood,  scissors  in  hand,  demonstrating  how 
very  easy  it  was  to  make  something  out  of 
nothing,  her  sisters  never  suspected  how  very 
near  tears  had  lately  been  to  those  bright  eyes, 
which  were  always  the  sunshine  of  the  house. 

"You  are  giving  yourself  a  world  of  troub 
le."  said  Selina.     "  If  I  were  you,  I  would  just 
make  over  the  dress  to  Elizabeth,  and  let  her 
do  what  she  could  wi»h  it." 

"  My  dear,  I  always  find  I  give  myself  twice 
the  trouble  by  expecting  people  to  do  what 
they  can't  do.  I  have  to  do  it  myself  after- 
ward. .  Prove  how  a  child  who  can't  even  han- 
dle a  needle  and  thread  is  competent  to  make 
a  gown  for  herself,  and  I  shall  be  most  happy 
to  secede  in  her  favor." 

"Nay,"  put  in  the  eldest  sister,  afraid  of  a 
collision  of  words,  "Selina  is  right  :  if  you  do 
not  teach  Elizabeth  to  make  her  own  gowns 
how  can  she  learn  ?" 

"  Johanna,  you  are  the  brilliantest  of  wo- 
men !  and  you  know  you  don't  like  the  parlor 
littered  with  rags  and  cuttings.  You  vish  to 
get  rid  of  me  for  the  evening  ?  Well,  I'll  go  ! 
Hand  me  the  work  basket  and  the  bundle, 
and  I'll  give  my  first  lesson  in  dress  making 
to  our  South  Sea  Islander." 

But  P'ate  stood  in  the  way  of  Miss  Hilary's 
good  intentions. 

She  found  Elizabeth  not  as  was  her  wont, 


m 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


the  we'll  shaped  head  and  forehead  ;  what  ten- 
derness and  feeling  in  the  deep-set  grey  eyes. 

"  Nonsense,,"  repeated  she.  "  Never  give 
up  any  thing  :  I  nerer  would.  •We'll  try  a 
different  plan,  and  begin  from  the  beginning, 
as  I  do  wtth  my  little  scholars.  Wait,  while 
I  fetch  a  copy  book  out  of  the  parlor. press." 

She  highly  amused  her  sisters  witli  a  de- 
scription of  what  she  called  her  "  newly  insti- 
tuted Polynesian  Academy  j  returned,  and  set 
to  work  to  guide  the  rough,  coarse  hand 
through  the  mysteries  of  caligraphy. 

To  say  this  was  an  easy  task  would  not  be 
true.  Nature's  own  laws  and  limits  make  the 
using  of  faculties  which  have  been  unused  for 
generations  very  difficult  at  first.  To  suppose 
that  a  working  man,  the  son  of  working  men, 
who  applies  himself  to  study,  does  it  with  as 
little  trouble  as  your  upper-claas  children,  who 
have  been  unconsciously  -undergoing  educa- 
tion ever  since  the  eradle,  is  a  great  mistake. 
All  honor,  therefore,  to  those  who  do  attempt, 
and  to  ever  so  small- a  degree  succeed  in,  the 
best  and  wisest  culture  of  all,  self-culture. 

Of  this  honor  Elizabeth  deserved  her  share. 

"  She  is  stupid  enough,"  Hilary  confessed, 
after  the  lesson  was  over ;  "  but  there  is"  a 
dogged  perseverance  about  the  girl  which  I 
actually  admire.  She  blots  her  fingers,  her 
nose,  her  apron,  but  she  never  gives  in  ;  and 
she  sticks  to  the  grand  principle  ot  one  thing 
at  a  time.  I  think  she  did  two  whole  pages  of 
a's,  and  really  performed  them  satisfactorily, 
before  she  asked  to  go  oh  to  b's.  Yes  !*I  be- 
lieve she  will  do." 

"  I  hope  she  will  do  her  work,  any  how," 
said  Selina,  breaking  into  the'  conversation 
rather  crossly.  "I'm  sure  I  don't  see  the 
good  of  wasting  time  over  teaching  Elizabeth 
to  write,  when  there's  'so  much  to  he  done  in 
the  house  .by  one  and  all  Df  us,  from  Monday 
morning  till  Saturday  night.'" 

"  Ay,  that's  it,"  answered  Hilary,  medita- 
tively. "  I  don't  see  how  I  ever  shall  get  time 
to  teach  her,  and  she  is  so  tired  of  nights  when 
the  work  is  all  done  :  she'll  be  dropping  asleep 
with 'the  pen  in  her  hand — Thave  done  it  my- 
self before  now." 

Ay,  in  those  days  when,  trying  so  hard  to 
"  improve  her  mind,"  and  make  herself  a  lit- 
tle more  eqtial  and  companionable  to  another 
mind  she  knew,  she  had.  after  her  daily  house 
cares  and  her  six  hours  of  school  teaching,  at- 
tempted at  nine  p.  m.  to  begin  close  study  on 
her  own  account.  And  though  with  her  strong 
will  she  succeeded  tolerably,  still,  as"  she  told 
Johanna,  she  could  well  understand  how  slow 
was  the  "march  dfintellect"  (a  phrase  which 
had  just  then  come,  up)  among  day  laborers 
and  the  like  ;  and  bow  difficult  it  was  for  these 
Mechanics  Institutions,  which  were  now  talk- 
ed so  much  of,  to  put  ah;,  new  ideas  into  the 
p(>or  tired  heads,  rendered  sluggish  and  stupid 
with  hard  bodily  lab 


"  Suppose  I  were  to  hold  my  Polynesian 
Academy  on  a  Sunday?"  and  she  looked  in- 
quiringly at  her  sisters,  especially  Johanna. 

Now  the  Misses  Leaf  were  old  fashioned 
country  folk,  who  lived  before  the  words  Sab- 
batarian and  un-Sabbatarian  had  ever  got  into 
the  English  language.  They  simply  "  remem- 
bered the  Sabbath  day  to  keep  it  holy  ;"  they 
arranged  so  as  to  make  it  for  all  the  household 
a  day  of  rest :  and  they  went  regularly  to 
church  once — sometimes  Selina  and  Hilary 
went  twiee.  For  the  intervening  hours,  their 
usual  custom  was  to  take  an  afternoou  walk 
in  the  fields  ;  begun  chiefly  for  Ascott's  sake, 
to  keep  the  lad  out  of  mischief,  and  put  into 
his  mind  better  thoughts  than  he  was  likely  to 
get  from  his  favorite  Sunday  recreation  of  sit- 
ting on  the  wall  throwing  stones.  After  he 
left  for  London  there  was  Elizabeth  to  be 
thought  of;  and  they  decided  that  the  best 
Sabbath  duty  for  the  little  servant  was  to  go 
and  see  her  mother.  So  they*  gave  her  every 
Sunday  afternoon  free ;  only  requiring  that 
she  should  be  at  home  punctually  after  church 
time,  at  eight  o'clock.  But  from  thence  till 
bedtime  was  a  blank  two  hours,  which,  Hilary 
had  noticed,  Elizabeth  not  unfrequently  spent 
in  dozing  over  the  fire." 

"  And  I  wonder,"  said  she,  giving  the  end 
of.  her  long  meditation  out  loud,  "  whether 
going  to* sleep  is  not  as  much  Sabbath  breaking 
as  learning  to  write?  What  do  you  say,  Jo- 
hanna ?" 

*Johanna,  simple,  God-fearing  woman  asshe 
was,  to  whom  faith  and  love  came  as  natural 
as  the  breath  she  drew,  had  nevei  perplexed 
herself  with  the  question.     She  only  smiled 
^scence.     But  Selina  was  greatly  shock- 
ed.    Teaching  to  write  on  a  Sunday  !     Bring- 
ing the  week  day  work' into  the  day  of  rest! 
Doing  one's  own   pleasure  on  the  holy  day  ! 
iShe  thought   it  exceedingly  wrong.     Such  a 
| thing  had  ifever  been  heard  of  in  their  house. 
Whatever  else  might  be   said  of  them,  the 
Leafs  were  always  a  respectable  family  as  to 
keeping  Sunday.     Nobody  could  say  that  even 
poor  Henry — 

But  here  Selina's  torrent  of  words  stopped. 

When  conversation  revived,  Hilary,  who 
had  been  at  first  half  annoyed  and  half  amus- 
ed, resumed  her  point  seriously. 

"  I  might  say  that  writing  is'nt  Elizabeth's 
week-day  work,  and  that  teaching  her  is  not 
exactly  doing  my  own  pleasure;  but  I  won't 
creep  out  of  the  argument  by  a  quibble.  The 
question  is,  What  is  keeping  the  Sabbath  day 
'holy?'  I  say — and  I  stick  to  my  opinion — 
that  it  ja  by  making  it  a  day  of  worship,  a  rest 
day — a  cheerful  and  happy  day — and  by  doing 
as  much  good  in  it  as  we  can.  And  therefore 
I  mean  to  teach  Elizabeth  on  a  Sunday." 

"  She'll  never  understand  it.  She'll  consid- 
er it  work." 

"And  if  A\t  did,:  work   is  a  moie  rellgiout 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


21 


thing  than  idleness.  I  am  sure  I  often  feel 
that,  of  the  two,  I  should  be  less  sinful  in  dig- 
ging potatoes  in  my  garden,  or  sitting  mending 
stockings  in  my  parlor,  than  in  keeping  Sun- 
day as  some  people  do— going  to  church  gen- 
teelly in  my  best  clothes,  eating  a  huge  Sunday 


relation— (and  yet  that  is  right,  for  the  relation 
and  authority  are  ordained  of  Clod) — but  be- 
tween the  educated  and  the  ignorant,  the 
coarse  and  the  refined. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  after  a  pause  of  consider- 
ation,  "  you  always  have  it  in  your  power  to 


dinner,  and  then  nodding  over  a  good  book,  J  repay  my  '  kindness,'  as  you  call  it.     Theelev 
or  taking  a  regular  Sunday  nap  till  bedtime.". erer  you  become  the  more  useful  you  will  be 
"  Hush,  child!"  said  Johanna,  reprovingly  ;  to  me  ;  and  the  more  good  you  grow  the  better 
for  Hilary's  cheeks  were  red,  and  her  voicel I  shall  like  you." 

angry.  She  was  taking  the  hot,  youthful  partj  Elizabeth'smiled — that  wonderfully  bright, 
which  in  its  hatred  of  forms  and  shams,  some-jsudden  smile  which  seemed  to  cover  over°al! 
times  leads — and  not  seldom  led  poor  Hilary — her  plainness  of  feature. 

a  little  too  far  on  the  other  side.  "I  think,"!  "Once"  upon  a  time,"  Hilary  resumed  by- 
Miss  Leaf  added,  "that  our  business  is  with  land-by,  "when  England  was  very  different 
ourselves,  and_not  with  our  neighbors.     Let  from  what  it  is  now,  English  ladies  used  to 


the 


Sabbath  »  according 


to  our  con- 


us  keep 

science.  Only,  I  would  take  care  never  to  do 
any  thing  which  jarred  against  my  neighbor's 
feelings.  I  would,  like  Paul,  'eat  no  meat 
while  the  world  standeth'  rather  than  '  make 
my  brother  to  offend.' " 

Hilary  looked  in~her  sister's  sweet,  calm 
face,  and  the  anger  died  out  of  her  own. 

"Shall  I  give  up  my  academy?"  she  said, 
softly. 

"  No,  my  love.  It  is  lawful  to  do  good  on 
the  Sabbath  day,  and  teaching  a  poor  ignorant 
girl  to  write  is  an  absolute  good.  Make  her 
understand  that,  and  you  need  not  be  afraid  of 
any  harm  ensuing." 

"  You  never  will  make  her  understand," 
said  Selina,  sullenly.  "  She  is  only  a  serv- 
ant." 


"Nevertheless  I'll  try. 


have  what  they  call  '  bower-women,'  whom 
they  took  as  girls,  and  brought  up  in  their 
service  ;  teaching  them  all  sorts  of  things — 
cooking,  sewing,  spinning,  singing,  and,  prob- 
ably, except  that  the  ladies  of  that  time  were 
very  ill-educated. themselves,  to  read  and  write 
also.  They  used  to  spend  part  of  every  day 
among  their  bower-women  ;  and  as  people  can 
only  enjoy  the'company  of  those  with  whom 
they  have  some  sympathies  in  common,  we 
must  conclude  that — "         • 

Here  Hilary  stopped,  recollecting  she  must 
be  discoursing  miles  above  the  head  of  her 
little  bower-maiden,  and  that,  perhaps;  after 
all,  her  theory  would  be  best  kept  to  lierself, 
and  only  demonstrated  practically. 

"So,  Elizabeth,  if  I  speudalittle  of  my  time 

teach  i 


in  teaching  you,  you  must  grow  up  my. faithful 
and  attached  bower-maiden-?1' 

Hilary  could  not  tell  how  far  she  succeeded;  "  I'll  grow  up  any  thing,  MissJJilary,  if  it's 
in  simplifying  to  the  young  servant's  com  pre-  to  please  you,"  was  the  answer,  given  with.'a 
hension  this  great  question,  involving  so  main  ^mothered  intensity  that  quite  startled  the 
points — such  as  the  following  of  the  spirit  aixlyo-ing  mistress. 

the  l^ter,  the  law  of  duty  and  the  compulsion  i"  "  I  "do  believe  the  girl  is  getting  fond  of  me," 
■of  love,  which,  as  she  spoke,  seemed  openmgjsaid  she,  half  touched,  half  laughing  to  Jo- 
out  so  widely  and  awfully  that  she  herself  in-ihanna.  "If  so,  we  shall  get  on."  It  is  justas 
voluntarily  shrank  from  it,  and  wondered  that;  with  our  school  children,  j  ou  know.  We  have 
poor  finite  creatures  should  ever  presume  to, to  seize  hold  of  their  hearts  first,  and  their 
squabble  about  it  at  all.  j  heads  afterward.     Now,  Elizabeth's  head  may 

But  one  thing  the  girl  did  understand — her  be  uncommonly  tough,  but  I  do  believe  she 
young  mistress's  kindness.     She  stood  watch-  likes  me." 

ing  the  delicate  little  hand  that  had  so  patiently  j  Johanna  smiled;  but  she  would  not  for  the 
guided  hers,  and  now  wrote  copy  after  copyjworld  have  said— never  encouraging  the  small- 
for  her  future  benefit.     At  last  she  said—         est  vanity  in  her  child— that  she  did  not  thinl 

"You're  taking  a  deal  o'  trouble  wi'  a  poor  this  circumstance  so  very  remarkable. 
wench,  and  it's  very  kind  in  a  lady  like  you." 

Miss  Hilary  was  puzzled  what  answer  to 
make.  True  enough  it  was  "  kind,"  and  she 
was  "a  lady;"  and  between  her  and  Mrs. 
Hand's  rough  daughter  was  an  unmistakable 
difference  and  distinction.  That  Elizabeth 
perceived  it  was  proved  by  her  growing' res- 
pectfulness of  manner — the  more  respectful,  it 
■eemed,  the  more  she  herself  improved. 
Hilary  could  not  bear  to  make  her  feel 


CHAPTER  V. 


A  household  exclusively  composed  of  wo- 
men has  its  advantages  and  its  disadvantages. 
It  is  apt  to  become  somewhat  narrow  in  judg- 
Yet'ment,  morbid  in  feeling,  absorbed  in  petty 
more,1  interests,  and  bounding  its  vision  of  outside 
sharply  than  was  unavoidable  the  great  gulf  things  to  the  small  horizon  which  it  sees  'from 
that  lies  and  ever  must  lie — not  so  much  be-  its  own  fireside.  But,  on.  the  other  hand,  be- 
tween mistress  and  servant,  in  their  abstract|thi&  fireside  often  abides  a  settled  peace  and 


22 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


purity,  a  long-suffering,  generous  forbearance, 
and  an  enduring  atfectionateness  which  the 
othe  other  sex  can  hardly  comprehend  or 
credit.  Meu  will  not  believe,  what  ia  never- 
theless the  truth,  that  we  can  "stand  alone" 
better  than  they  can  ;  that  we  can  do  without 
them  far  easier,  and  with  less  deterioration  of 
character,  than  they  can  do  without  us  ;  that 
we  are  better  able  to  provide  for  ourselves  in- 
terests, duties,  and  pleasures  ;  in  short,  strange 
as  it  may  appear,  that  we  have  more  real  self- 
sustaining  independence  than  they. 

Of  course,  that  the  true  life,  the  highest  life, 
is  that  of  man  and  woman  united,  no  one  will 
be  insane  enough  to  deny  ;  I  am  speaking  of 
the  substitute  for  it,  which  poor  humanity  has 
so  often  to  fall  back  upon  and  make  the  best 
of— a  better  best  very  frequently  than  what 
appears  best  in  ihe  eyes  of  the  world.  In 
truth,  many  a  troubletl.  care  ridden,  wealthy 
family,  torn  with  dissensions,  oV  frozen  up  in 
splendid  fornialities,  might  have  envied  that 
quiet,  humble,  maiden  household  ol  the  Misses 
Leaf,  where  their  only  trial  was  poverty,  and 
their  only  grief  the  one  which  they  knew  the 
worst  of,  and  had  met  patiently  for  many  "B 
year— poor  Selinft's  "  way." 

I  doubt  not  it  was  good  for  Elizabeth  Hand 
that  her  first  place — the  home  in  which  she 
received  her  first  impressions — was  this  fem- 
inine establishment,  simple  and  regular,  in 
which  was  neither  waste  nor  disorder  allowed. 
Good,  too,  that  while  her  mistresses'  narrow 
means  restricted  her  in  many  things  enjoyed 
by  servants  in  richer  families,  their  interests, 
equally  nan-Qw,  caused  to  be  concentrated  up- 
on herself  a  double  measure  ot  thought  and 
care.  She  became  absolutely  "one  of  the  fam- 
ily," sharing  in  all  its  concerns.  From  its 
small  and  few  carnal  luxuries — such  as  the 
cake,  fruit,  or  pot  of  preserve,  votive  offerings 
from  pupils'  parents — up  to  the  newspaper  and 
the  borrowed  book,  nothing  was  either  literal- 
ly or  metaphorically  "locked"  up  from  Eliza- 
beth. 

This  grand  question  of  locking  up  had  been 
discussed  in  full  conclave  the  day  after  her 
month  of  preparation  ended,  the  sisters  taking 
opposi|e  sides,  as  might  have  been  expected. 
Selina  was  for  the  immediate  introduction  of 
a  locksmith  and  a  key  basket. 

"  While  she  was  only  on  trial,  it  did  not  so 
much  signify  ;  besides,  if  it  did,  we  had  only 
buttons  on  the  press  doors ;  but  now  she  isour 
regular  servant  we  ought  to  institute aregular 
system  of  authority.  How  can  she  respect  a 
family  that  never  locks  up  any  thing?" 

'•  How.  can  we  respect  a  servant  from  whom 
we  loch  up  every  thing  1" 

"  Respect  a  servant !  What  do  you  mean, 
Hilary?" 

•'  I  mean  thai  if  I  did  not  respect  a  servant 
I  would  be  very  «orry  to  keep  her  one  day  in 
any  house  of  mine."   » 


"  Wait  till  you've  a  houec  of.  your  own  to 
keep,  Miss,"  said  Selina,  crossly.  "  I  never 
heard  such  nonsense.  Is' that  the  way  you 
mean  to  behave  to  Elizabeth  ?  leave  every 
thing  open  to  her — clothes,  books,  money ; 
trust  her  with  all  your  fecrets  ;  treat  her  as 
your  most  particular  friend  V 

"  A  girl  of  fifteen  would  be  rather  an  incon- 
venient particular  friend!  And  J  have  happily- 
few  secrets  to  trust  her  with.  But  if  1  could 
not  trust  her  with  our  coffee,  tea.  sugar,  and 
so  on,  and  bring  her  up  from  the  very  first  iu 
the  habit  of  being  trusted,  1  would  recommend 
her  being  sent  away  to-morrow." 

"Very  fine  talking;  and  what  do  you  say, 
Johanna? — if  that  is  not  an  unnecessary  ques- 
tion after  Hilary  has  given  her  opinion." 

"  1  think,"  replied  the  elder  6ister,  taking  no 
notice  of  the  long  familiar  inuendo,  "that  in 
this  case  Hilary  is  right.  How  people  ought 
to  manage  in  great  houses  I  can  not  say  :  but 
in  our  small  house  it  will  be  easier  and  better 
not.  to  alter  our  simple  ways.  Trusting  the 
girl — if  she  is  a  good  girl — will  only  make  her 
more  trustworthy  ;  if  she  is  bad.  we  shall  the 
sooner  find  it  out  and  let  her  go. 

But  Elizabeth  did  not  go.  A  year  passed ; 
two  years  ;  her  wages  were  raised,  and  with 
them  her  domestic  position.  From  a  "girl" 
she  was  converted  into  a  regular  servant ;  ber 
pinafores  gave  place  to  grown-up  gowns  and 
aprons;  and  her  rough  head,  at  Miss  Selina'' s 
incessant  inst;  je,  was  concealed  by  a  cap — 
caps  being  considered  by  that  lady  a?  the 
proper  and  indispensable  badge  of  servant- 
hood. 

To  say  that  during  her  transition  state,  or 
even  now  that  she  had  reached  the  cap  era, 
Elizabeth  gave  her  mistresses  no  trouble,  would 
be  stating  a  ^..'f-evident  improbability'.  -iVhat 
young  lass  under  seventeen,  of  any  rani?,  does 
not  cause  plenty  of  trouble  to  her  natural 
guardians?  Who  can  "put  an  old  head  on 
young  shoulders  ?"  or  expect  from  girls  at  the 
most  unformed  and  unsatisfactory  period  of 
life  that  complete  moral  and  mental  discipline, 
that  unfailing  self-control,  that  perfection  of 
temper,  and  every  thing  else  which,  ofcour-i:. 
all  mistresses  always  have? 

I  am  obliged  to  confess  that  Elizabeth  had 
a  few — nay,  not  a  few — most  obstinate  faults  ; 
that  no  child  tries  its  parents,  no  pupil  its 
school  teachers,  more  than  she  tiied  her  three 
mistresses  at  intervals.  She  was  often  thought- 
less and  careless,  brusque  in  her  maViner.  slov- 
enly in  her  dress  :  sometimes  she  was  down- 
right "bad,"  filled  full — as  some  of  her  eldere 
and  betters  are,  at  all  ages — with  absolute 
naughtiness  ;  when  she  would  sulk  for  hours 
and  days  together,  and  make  the  whole  family 
uncomfortable,  as  many  a  servant  can  make 
many  a  family  small  as  that  of  the  Misses 
Leaf* 

But  still  they  never  lost  what  Hilary  termed 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


23 


their  "respect"  for  Elizabeth  ;  they  never  found  |  even  Johanna  satd  sometimes,  "dangerous" 


her  out  in  a  lie,  a  meanness,  or  an  act  of  de- 
ception or  dishonesty.  They  took  her  faults 
as  we  must  take  the  surface  faults  of  all  con- 
nected with  us — patiently  rather  than  resent- 
Fully,  seeking  to  correct  rather  than  to  punish. 
And  though  "there  were  difficult  elements  in 
"the  household,  such  as  their  being  three  mis- 
tresses to  be  obeyed,  the  youngest  mistress  a 
thought  too  lax  and  the  second  One  undoubt- 
edly too  severe,  still  no  girl  could  live  with 
these  high-principled,  much-enduring  women 
without  being  impressed  with  two  things  which 
the  serving  class  are  slowest  to  understand — 
the  dignity  of  poverty,  and  the  beauty  of  that 
which  is  the  only  effectual  law  to  bring  out 
good  and  restrain  evil — the  law  of  loving-kind- 
ness. 

Two  fracas,  however,  must  be  chronicled, 
for  after  both  the  girl's  dismissal  hung  on  a 
thread.  The  first  was  when  Mrs.  Cliffe,  moth- 
er of  Tommy  Clift'e,  who  was  nearly  killed  in 
the  field,  being  discovered  to  be  an  ill  sort  of 
woman,  and  in  the  habit  of  borrowing  from. 
Elizabeth  stray  shillings,  which  were  never 
returned,  waa  forbidden  the  house,  Elizabeth 
resented  it  so  fiercely  that  she  sulked  for  a 
whole  week  afterward. 


thus  to  put  before  Elizabeth  a  standard  of 
ideal  perfection,  a  Quixotic  notion  of  life — life 
■in  its  lull  purp08e,  power,  and  beauty — su.cb 
as  otherwise  never  could  have.crossed  the  mind 
of  this  working  girl,  born  of  parents  who, 
though  respectable  and  worthy,  were  io  no  re- 
spect higher  than  the  common  working  class  ? 
I  will  not  argue  the  point:  I  am  not  making 
Elizabeth  a  text  for  a  sermon  ;  I  am  simply 
writing  her  story. 

One  thing, was  certain,  that  by  degrees  the 
young  woman's  faults  lessened;  even  that  worst 
of  them,  the  unmistakable  bad  temper,  not 
aggressive,  but  obstinately  sullen,  which  made 
her  and  Miss  Selina  sometimes  not  on  speak- 
ing terms  tor  a  \*eek  together.  But  she  sim- 
ply "sulked:"  she  never  grumbled  or  was 
pert:  and  she  did  her  work  just  as  usual — 
wiih  a  kind  of  dogged  struggle  not'  only  against 
the  superior  powers  but  against  something 
within  herself  much  harder  to  fight  with. 

"  She  makes  me  feel  more  sorry  for  her  than 
angry  with  her,"  Miss  Leaf  would  sometimes 
say,  coming  out  of  the  kitchen  with  that 
grieved  face,  which  was  the  chief  sign  of  dis-< 
pleasure  her  sweet  nature  ever  betrayed  "She 
will  have  up-hill  work  through  life,  like  lis  all, 


The  other  and  still  more  dangerous  crisis  in  and  more  than  many  of  us,  poor  child !" 


Elizabeth's  destiny  was  when  a  volume  of 
Scott's  novels,  having  been  missing  for  some 
days,  was  found  hidden  in  her  bed,  and  she 
lying  awake  reading  it  was  thus  ignominious- 
ly  discovered  at  eleven  p.  m.  by  Miss  Selina,  in 
consequence  of  the  gleam  of  candlelight  from 
under  her  door. 

It  was  true  neither  of  these  errors  were  ac- 
tual moral  crimes.  Hilary  even  roused  a  vol- 
ley of  sharp  words  upon  herself  by  declaring 
they  had  their  source  in  actual  virtues  :  that 
a  girl  who  would  stint  herself  of  shillings,  and 
hold  lesolutely  to  any  liking  she  had,  even  if 
unworthy,  had  a  creditable  amount  of  both 
self-denial  and  fidelity  in  her  disposition.  Al- 
so that  a  tired  out  maid-of  all-work,  who  was 
kept  awake  of  nights  by  her  ardent  apprecia- 
tion of  the  "  Heart  of  Mid-Lothian,"  must 
possess  a  degree  of  both  intellectual  and  moral 
capacity  which  deserved  cultivation  rather 
than  blame.  And  though  this  surreptitious 
pursuit  of  literatuie  under  difficulties  could 
not  of  course  be  allowed,  I  grieve  to  say  that 
Miss  Hilary  took  every  opportunity  of  not  on- 
ly giving  the  young  servant  books  to  read,  but 
of  talking  to  her  about  *,hem.     And  also  that 


But  gradually  Elizabeth,  too,  copying  invol- 
untarily the  rest  of  the  family,  learned  to  put 
up  with  Miss  Selina  :  who,  on  her  part,  kept  a 
sort  of  armed  neutrality.  And  once,  when  a 
short  but  sharp  illness  of  Johanna's  shook  the 
house  from  its  even  tenor,  startled  every  body 
out  of  thetr  little  tempers,  and  made  them 
cling  together  and  work  together  in  a  sort  of 
fear-stricken  union  against  one  common  grief, 
Selina  allowed  that,  they  might  have  gone  far- 
ther and  fared  worse  on  the  day  they  engaged. 
Elizabeth. 

"After  this  illness  of  his  Aunt,  Ascott  came 
home.  It  was  his  first  visitsince  he  had  gone 
to  London  ;  Mr.  Ascott,  he  said,  objected  to 
holidays.  But  now,  from  some  unexplained 
feeling,  Johanna  in  her  convalescence  longed 
after  the  boy  —no  longer  a  boy,  however,  but 
nearly  twenty,  and  looking  fully  his  age.  How 
proud  his  aunts  were  to  march  him  up  the 
town,  and  hear  every  body's  congratulations 
on  his  good  looks  and  polished  manners  !  It 
was  the  old  story — old  as  the  hills  1  I  do  not 
pretend  to  invent  any  thing  new.  Women, 
especially  maiden  aunts,  will  repeat  the  tale 
till   the   end  of  time,  vso  long   as   thev  have 


a  large  proportion  of  these  books  were — tojyouths  belonging  to  them  on  whom  to  expend 
Miss  Selina's  unmitigated  horror— absolutely  their  natural  tendency  to  clinging  fondness, 
fiction  !  -stories,    novels,  even   poetry — books  and   ignorant,    innocent  hero  worship.      The 


that  Hilary  liked  herself— books  that  had  buijt 
up  in  her  own  passionate  dream  of  life  ;  where- 
in all  the  women  were  faithful, tender,  heroic, 
self-devoted;  and  all  the  men  were — something 
not  unlike  Eobert  Lyon. 
Did  she  do  harm  ?    Was  it,  as  Selina  and 


Misses  Leaf--ay,  even  Selina.  whose  irritation 
against  the  provoking  boy  was  quite  mollified 
by  the  elegant  young  man— were  no  wiser  than 
their  neighbors. 

But  there  was  one  person  in  the  household 
who  still  obstinately  refused  to  bow  the  knee 


24 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


to  Ascott.  Whether  it  was,  as  psychologists 
might  explain,  some  instinctive  polarity  in 
their  natures  :  or  whether,  having  ©nee  con- 
ceive! a  prejudice,  Elizabeth  held  on  to  it  like 
grim  death  ;  still  there  was  the  same  unspo- 
ken antagonism  between  them.  The  young 
fellow  took  little  notice  of  her  except  to  ob- 
serve "  that  she  hadn't  grown  any  handsom- 
er^' but  Elizabeth  watched  him  with  with  a 
keen  severity  that  overlooked  nothing,  and  re- 
sisted, with  a  passive  pertinacity  that  was 
quite  irresistible,  all  his  encroachments  on  the 
I'amity  habits,  all  the  little  self-pleasing  ways 
which  Ascott  had  been  so  used  to  of  old,  that 
neither  he  nor  his  aunts  apparently  recognized 
them  as  selfish. 

"  I  canna  bear  to  see  him  ("  can  not,"  sug- 
gested her  mistress,  who  not  seeing  any  reason 
why  Elizabeth  should  not  speak  the  Queen's 
English  as  well  as  herself,  had  instituted'  h's, 
and  stopped  a  few  more  glaring  p;oviucial- 
isms.),  "  I  cannot  bear  to  see  him,  Miss  Hil- 
ary, lolling  on  the  arm-chair,  when  Missis 
looks  so  tired  and  pale,  and  sitting  up  o'  nights, 
burning  double  fires,  and  going  up  stairs  at 
last  with  his  boots  on,  and  waking  every  body. 
1  dunnot  like  it,  I  say." 

"  You  forget ;  Mr.  Ascott  has  his  studies. 
He  must  work  for  the  nex^  examination." 

"  Why  doesn't  he  get  up  of  a  morning  the* 
instead, of  lying  in  bed,  and  keeping  the  break- 
fast about  till  ten  ?  Why  can't  he  do  his 
learning  by  daylight?  Daylight's  cheaper 
than  mould  candles,  and  a  deal  better  for  the 
eyes." 

Hilary  was  puzzled.  A  truth  was  a  truth, 
and  to  try  and  make  it  out  otherwise,  even  for 
the  dignity  of  the  family,  was  something  from 
which  her  honest  nature  revolted.  Besides, 
the  sharp-sighted  servant  would  be  the  first  to  ,iav 
detect  the  inconsistency  of  or.elaw  of  right  for 
the  parlor  and  another  for  the  kitchen.  So 
she  took  refuge  in  silence  and  in  the  apple- 
pudding  she  was  making 

But  she  resolved  to  seize  the  first  opportu- 
nity of  giving  Ascott,  by  way  of  novelty,  the 
severest  lecture  that  tongue  of  auht  could  be- 
stow. And  this  chance  occurred  the  same  af- 
ternoon, when  the  other  two  aunts  had  gone 
out  to  tea,  to  a  house  which  Ascott  voted 
"  slow,"  and  declined  going  to.  .She  remained 
to  make  tea  for  him,  and  in  the  mean  time 
took  him  for  a  constitutional  up  and  down  the 
public  walks  hard  by.. 

Ascott  listened  at  first  very  good  humored- 
iy  :  once  or  twice  calling  her  "  a  dear  little 
prig,"  in  his  patronizing  way — he  was  rather 
fond  of  patronizing  his  Aunt  Hilary.  But 
when  she  seriously  spoke  of  his  duties,  as  no 
longer  a  boy  but  a  man,  who  ought  now  to 
assume  the  true,  manly  right  of  thinking  for 


"  Now  stop  that,  Aunt  Hilary  :  I'll  not  have 
you  coming  Mr.  Lyon  over  me." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

For  of  late  Ascott  had  said  very  little  about 
Mr.  Lyon — not  half  so  much  as  Mr.  Lyon,  in 
his  steadily  peisistent  letters  to  Miss  Leaf, 
told  her  about  her  nephew  Ascott. 

'•  1  mean  that  I'll  not  be  preached  to  like" 
that  by  a  woman.  It's  bad  enough  to  stand 
it  from  a  man;  but  then  Lyon's  a  real  sharp 
fellow,  who  knows  the  world,  which  women 
don't,  Aunt  Hilary.  Besides,  he  coaches  me 
in  my  L'ttm  and  Greek  ;  so  I  let  him  pitch 
into  me  now  and  then.  But  I  won't  let  you; 
so  just  stop  it,  will  you."  , 

Something  new  in  Ascott's  tpne — speaking 
more  of  the  resentful  fierceness  of  the  man 
than  the  pettishness  of  the  boy — frightened 
his  little  aunt,  and  silenced  her.  By-and-by 
she  took  comfort  trom  the  reflection  that,  ae 
the  lad  had  in  his  anger  betrayed,  he  had  be- 
side him  in  Londou  a  monitor  whose  preach- 
ing would  be  so  much  wiser  and  more  effectual 
than  her  own  that  she  determined  to  say  no 
more. 

The  rare  hearing  of  Mr.  Lyon's  name — for,, 
time  and  absence  having  produced  their  nat- 
ural effect,  except  when  his  letter  came,  he 
was  seldom  talked  about  now — set  Hilary 
thinking. 

"  Do  you  go  to  see  him  often  ?"  she  said  at 

,'Who?  Mr.  Lyon?"  And  Ascott,  delight- 
ed to  escape  into  a  fresh  subject,  became  quite 
cheerful  and  communicative.  "  Oh,  blesd 
you !  He  wouldn't  care  for  my  going  to  him. 
He  lives  in  a  two-pair  back,  only  one  room, 
'  which  serves  him  for  kitchen  and  parlor  and 
all :'  dines  at  a  cook  shop  for  nine-pence  a 
and  makes  his  own  porridge  night  and 
morning.  He  told  me  so  once;  for  he  isn't  a 
bit  ashamed  of  it.  t  But  he  must  be  precious 
hard  up  sometimes.'  However,  as  he  contrives 
to  keep  a  decent  coat  on  his  back,  and  pay  his 
classes  at  the  University,  and  carry  off  the 
very  first  honors  going  there,  nobody  asks  any 
questions."  That's  the  good  of  London  life, 
Aunt-Hilaiy,"  said  the  young  fellow,  drawing 
himself  up  with  great  wisdom.  "Only  look 
like  a  gentleman,  behave  yourself  as  such,  and 
nobody  asks  any  questions." 

"  Yes,"  acquiesced  vaguely  Aunt  Hilary. 
And  then  her  mind  wandered  yearningly  to 
the  solitary  student  in  the  two-pair  back.  He 
might  labor  and  suffer  :  he  might  be  ill ;  he 
might  die,  equally  solitary,  and  "  nobody 
would  ask  any  questions."  This  phase  of  Lon- 
don life  let  a  new  light  in  upon  her  mind.  The 
letters  to  Johanna  had  been  chiefly  filled  with, 
whatever  he  thought  would  interest  them.. 
Witli  his  characteristic  Scotch  reserve,  he  had. 


and  taking  care  of  other  people,  especially  hisjsaid  very  little  about  himself,  except  in  the 
aunts,  Ascott  began  to  flush  up  angrily.         (last,  wherein  he  mentioned  that  he  had  "  done,- 


MlrfTHESS  AND  MAID, 


it* 


pretty  well"  atthecolkige.  this  term,  and  meant!  family  not  to  have  heard  of  such  a  person, 
to  "go  in  tor  more  work"  immediately,  '  And  his  knowing  her  was  a  tolerable  proof  of 

What  this  work  entailed — how  much  more  his  identity  ;  besides,  unconsciously^  the  girl 
.toil,  how  much  more  poverty— Hilary  knew  was  influenced  by  that  look  ami  'mien  of  true 
not.  Perhaps  even  his  successes,  which  As- jgentlemanhoo  1.  as  courteous  to  the  poor  maid- 
cott  went  on  to  talk  of,  had  less  place  ir,  her  of-all-work.  as  he  would  have  been  to  any 
thoughts  than  the  picture  oftbe  face  she  knew,  [duchess  born;  and  by  that  bright,  sudden 
sharpened  with  illness,  wasted  with  hardworklemile,  which  came  like  sunshine  over  his  iace, 
and  solitary  care.  and    like   Sunshine    warmed  and  opened  the 

••  And  1  can  not  help  him — I  can  not  help!  heart  of  every  one  that  met  it. 
him!"  was  her  bitter  cry  j  until,  passing  from      It  opened   that  of  Elizabeth.     She  relaxed 
theVlream-land  of  fancy,  the  womanly  nature  her  Cerberus  keeping-  of  the   door,  and  even 


asserted  itself.  She  thought  if  it  had  been,  or 
if  it  ware  to  be.  her  blessed  lotto  be  chosen  by 
Robert  Lyon,  how  she  would  take  care  of  him  ! 
what  an  utter  slave  she  would  be  to  him  !  How 
no  penury  .would  frighten  her.  no  household 
care  oppress  or  humble  her.  if  done  for  him 
and  for  his  coinfort.  To  her  brave  heart  no 
battle  of  life  seemed  too  long  or  too  sore,  if 
only  it  were  fought  for  him  and  at  hip  side. 
And  as  the  early  falling  leaves  were  blown 
in  gusts  across  her  path,  and  the  misty  autumn 
night -began  to  close  in,  r.ature  herself  seemed 
to  plead  in  unison  with  the  craving  of  her 
heart,  which  sighed  that  youth  and  summer 
not  always:  and  that,  "be  it  ever  so 
humble."  as  the  song  says,  there  is  no  place 
so  bright  and  beautiful  as  the  fireside  of  a  love- 
mi  home. 

While  the.  aunt  and  nephew  w«re  strolling 
•thus,  thinking  of  very  different  things,  their 
own  fire  newly  lit — Ascott  liked  a  fire — was 
blazing  away  in  solitary  glory,  for  the  benefit 
of  all  passers-by.  At  length  one — a  gentleman 
— stopped  at  the  gate,  and  looked  in,  then  tbok 
a  turn  to  the  end  of  the  terrace,  and  stood  ga- 
zing in  once  more.  The  solitude  of  the  room 
apparently  troubled  hiriu  twice  his  hand  was 
on  the  latch  before  he  opened  it  and  knocked 
at  the  front  dcor. 

Elizabeth  appeared,  which  seemed  to  sur- 
"prise  him. 

"  Is  Miss  Leaf  at  home  ?" 

';  No,  Sir." 

"Is  she  well?  Are  all  the  family  well?" 
and  he  stepped  right  into  the  passage,  with  the 
freedom  of  a  familiar  foot. 

("  I  should  ha'  slammed  the  door  in  his 
face,"  was  Elizabeth's  comment  afterward  : 
•  ''only,  you  see.  Miss  Hilary,  he  looked  a  real 
gentleman. ")i 

The  stranger  and  she  mutually,  examine'! 
One  another. 

"  I  think  I  have  heard  of  you,"  said  he, 
-'..iling.  "You  are  Miss  Leaf's  servant — 
Elizabeth  Hand." 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  still  grimly,  and  with  a  deter- 
mined grasp  of  the  door  handle. 

"If, your  mistresses  are  likely  to  be  home 
soon,  will  you  allow  me  to  wait  for  them?  I 
am  an  old  friend  of  theirs.  Mv  name  is 
Lyon." 

Now  Elizabeth  was  far  too  much  one  of  the 


went  so  far  as  to  inform  him  that  Miss  Leaf 
and  Miss  Selina  were  out  to  tea,  but  Miss 
Hilary. and  Mr.  Ascott  would  beat  home 
sliorrty.  He  was  welcome  to  wait  in  the  par- 
lor if  he  liked. 

Afterward,  seized  with  mingled  euriosity  ana 
misgiving,  she  made  various  errands  to  go  in 
and  look  at  him  ;  but  she  had  not  courage  to 
address  him,  and  he  never  spoke  to  her.  He 
sat.  by  the  window,  gazing  out  into  the  gloam- 
Except  just  turning  his  head  at  her  en- 
trance, she  did  not  think  lie  had  once  stirred; 
the  whole  time.  .     ■ 

Elizabeth  went  back  to  her  kitchen,  and 
stood  listening  for  her  young  mistress's  famil- 
iar knock.  Mr.  Lyon  seemed  to  have  listened 
too,  for  before  she  could  reach  it  the  door  was 
already  opened. 

There  was  a  warm  greeting — to  her  great 
relief:  for  she  knew  eho  hud  broken  the  do- 
mestic laws  in  admitting  a  stranger  unaware;'. 
— and 'then  Elizabeth  heard  them  all  three  go 
into  the  parlor,  where  they  remained  talking, 
without  ringing  for  either  tea  or  candles,  a  lull 
quarter  of  an  hour. 

Miss  Hilary  at  last  came  out.  but  much  to 
Elizabeth's  surprise,  went  straight  up  intoher 
bedroom  without  entering  the  kitchen  at  all. 

It  wassome  minutes  more  before  she  descend- 
ed :  and  then,  after  giving  her  orders  for  tea, 
and  seeing  that  all  was  arranged  with  special 
neatness,  she  stood  absently  by  the  kitchen 
fire.  Elizabeth  noticed  h#w  wonderfully  bright 
her. eyes  were,  and  what  a  soft,  happy  smile 
she  had.  She  noticed  it,  because  she  had 
never  seen  Miss  Hilary  look  exactly  like  that 
before  ;  and  she  never  did  again. 

."  Don't  you  be  troubling  yourself  with  wait- 
ing about  here."  she  said;  and  her -mistress 
seemed  to  staii  at  being  spoken  to.  "  I'll  get 
the  tea  all  right.  Miss  Hilary.  Please  go  back 
into  the  parlor." 


Hilary  went  in 


(JfMPTER  VI. 

Elizabeth  got  tea  ready  with  unwonted 
diligence  and  considerable  excitement.  Any 
visitor  was  a  rare  occurrence  in  this  very  quiet 
family  ;  but  a  gentleman  visiter— a  young  gen- 


^6 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID, 


Ueman  too — was  a  remarkable  fact,  arousing 
both  interest  and  curiosity.  For  in  the  latter 
quality  this  girl  of  seventeen  could  scarcely  be 
expected  to  be  deficient :  and  as  to  the  former, 
she  had  so  completely  identified  herself  with 
the  family  she  served,  that  all  their  concerns 
were  her  concerns  also.  Her  acute  comments 
on  their  few  guests,   and  on  their  little  schol 


Scott,  Fenimore  Cooper,  Maria  Edgeworth, 
and  Harriet  Maftineau.  When  this  strange 
gentleman  appeared — in  ordinary  coat  and 
hat,  or  rather  GMengary  bonnet,  neither  partic- 
ularly handsome  nor  particularly  tall,  yet 
whose  coming  had  evidently  given' Miss  Hila- 
ry so  much  pleasure,  and  who,  once  or  twice 
while  waiting  at  tea.  Elizabeth  fancied  she  had 


are,  sometimes  amused  Hilary  as  much  as  her  seen  looking  at  Miss  Hilary  as  nobodv  ever 
criticisms  on  the  books  she  read  But  as  nei-  looked  before — when  Mr.  Rebert  Lyon  appear- 
ther  wereever  put  forward  intrusively  or  imper-'ed  on  the  horizon,  the  faithful  "bower  maiden" 


tinently,  she  let  them  pass,  and  only  laughed 
"over  them  with  Johanna* in  private. 

Jn  speaking  of  these  said  books,  and  the 
questions  they  led  to,  it  was  not  likely  but  that 


the  other  seventeen — should  occasionally  light 
upon  a  subject,  rather  interesting  to  women  of 


was  a  goo  ideal  disappointed. 

She  had  expected  something  better:  at  all 
events,  something  different,  flcr  first  bril- 
liant caStle  in  the  air  fell,  poor  lass !  but  she 


mis  tress  and  maid — one  aged  twenty-two,  and  "quickly  built  it  up  again,  and,  with  the  vivid 


imagination  of  her  age,  she  mapped  out  the 
whole  future,  ending  by  a  vision  of  Miss  II il- 


iheir  ages,  though  not  commonly  discussed  ary,  all  in  white,  sweeping  down  the  Terrace 
between  mistresses  and  maids.  Nevertheless,  in  a. carriage  and  pah — to  fortune  and  happi- 
when  itdidcomein  theway,  Mies  Hilary  never  ness  ;  leaving  herself,  though  with  a  sore  want 
shirked  it,  but  talked  it  out,  frankly  and  freely,  at  her  heart,  and  a  great  longing  to  follow,  to 


-he  would  to  any  other  person. 

"  The  girl  has  feelings  and  notions  on  the 
.natter,  like  all  other  girls,  i  suppose,"  reas- 
oned she  to  herself  ;  "so  it  is  important  that 


devote  the  remainder  of  her  natural  life  to 
Miss  Johanna. 

**  Her  couldna  do  without   somebody  to  see 
to  her — and  Miss  Selina  do  worrit  her  so," 


her  notions  should  be  kept  clear,  and  her  feel-; muttered  Elizabeth,  in  the  excitement  of  this 


ings  right.     It  may  do   her  some  good,  and 
save  her  from  much  harm.' 

And  so  it  befell  that  Elizabeth  Hand,  whose 
blunt  ways,  unlovely  person,  and  temperament 
no  oddly  nervous  and  reserved,  kept  her  from 
attracting  any  "  sweetheart"  of  her  own  class, 
had  unconsciously  imbibed  her  mistress's  the 
ory  of  love.     Love,  pure  and  simple,  the  very 


Almaschar  vision,  relapsing  into  her  old  pro- 
vincialisms. "So,  even  if  Miss  Hilary  axes 
me  to  come,  I'll  stop.  T  reckon.  Ay.  I'll  stop 
wi'  Miss  Leaf." 

This  valorous  determination  taken,  the  poor 
maid  servant's  dream  was  broken  by  the 
opening  of  the  parlor  door,  and  an  outcry  of 
Ascott's  for  his  coat  and  gloves,  he  having  to 
deepest  and  highest,  sweetest  and  most  solemn! fetch'  his  aunts  home  at  nine  o'clock,  Mr.  Lyon 
thing  in  life:  to  be  believed  jn  devoutly  untillaccompar.ying  him.  And  as  they  all  stood 
it  came,  and  when  it  did  come,  to  be  held  to,  together  at  the  frontdoor,  Elizabeth  overheard 
firmly,  faithfully,  with  a  single-minded,  settled;  Mr.  Lyon  say  something  abo'uf  what  a  beau- 
constancy,  till  death.  A  creed,  quite  impos-  tiful  night  it  was. 
siblei  many  will  say.  in  this  ordinary  world, 
and  most  dangerous  to  be  put  into  the  head  of 
a  poor  servant.  -Yet  a  woman  is  but  a  ivp- 
rnaii,  be  she  maid-servant  or  queen  ;  and  if, 
from  queens  to  maid-servants,  girls  were 
taught  thus  to  think  of  love,  there  might  be  a 


"It  would  do  you  no   harm;  Miss  Hilary  ; 
will  you  walk  with  us 
'.« if  you  like." 

Hilary  went  up  stairs  for  her   bonnet  and 
shawl  :   but  when,  a  minute  or  two  after,  Eli- 
zabeth followed  her  with  a  candle,  she  found 
:'ew  more  '•broken"  hearts  perhaps,  but  therelher  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  all  in 


vould  certainly   be  fewer  wicked  hearts;  far 

ewer   corrupted   lives  o1'  men,   and  degraded 

ivt-s  of  women  ;  far  fewer  unholy  marriages, 

desolated,  drear 7,  homeless  homes.    . 

Elizabeth,  having  c!t:aied  away  her  tea- 
lungs,  Btood  listening  to  the  voices  in  the 
parlor,  and  pondering.    . 

She  bad  .sometimes  wondered  in  her  own 
mind  that   no  knight  ever  came   to  carrv  nit 


[ark,  her  face  white  and  her1  hands  trem- 
bliug. 

■•  Thank  you,thauk  you  !"  she  said  mechari 
ically,  as  Elizabeth  folded  and  fastened  hei 
shawl  for  her — and  descended  immediately. 
Elizabeth  watched  her  take,  not  Ascott's  arm. 
but  Mr.  Lyon's,  and  walk  down  the  Terrace 
in  the  starlight. 

••  Some'at's  wrong.     I'd  like  to  know  who's 
been   a-vexin'  of  her.''    though!    fiercely   the 


voung  servant. 


her  charming  princess — her-  admired  and  be- 
loved Mise  Hilary.     Mis    II  ilnry,  on  her.  p;. 

seemed  totally  indiilV-n  ;  fo  the  youth  ■  '■'■  No,  nobody  had  1  ■•en  "a-vexing"  her  mi»- 
Stowbury  ;  who  indeed  v> ere.  Elizabeth  1  ess.     There    was    nobody    to    blame;    only 

•d. . t-uite  unwi.i   !i\  her  regard.     The  only  suit-  there  had  ed    to   Hilary   one  of  those 

aide  lover  few  her  young  mistress  must  be) things  which  strike  like  a  sword  through  a 
somebody  exceedingly  grand  and  noble — a  young  and  happy  heart,  taking  all  the  life  and 
compound  of  the  best  heroes,  of  Shak6peare,J  youth  out  of  it. 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


27 


Robert  Lyon  had,  half  an  hour  ago,  told  her 
— a"nd  she  had  had  to  hear  it  as  a  piece  of  sim- 
ple news,  to  which  she  had  only  to  Ray,  "  In- 
deed !" — that  to  day  and  to-morrow  were  his 
two  last  Jays  at  Stowbury — almost  his  last  in 
England.  Within  a  week  he  was  to  sail  for 
India.  . 

There  had  befallen  him  what  most  people 
would  have  considered  a  piece  of  rare  good 
fortune.  At  the  London  University,  a  fellow 
student,  whom  he  had  been  gratuitously 
'-'coaching"  in  Hindostanee,  fell  ill,  and  was 
"  thrown  upon  his  hands,"  as- he  briefly  defined 
services  which  must  have  been,  great,  since 
the,-  had  resulted  in  this  end.*  The  young 
man's  father — a  Liverpool  and  Bombay  mer- 
chant— made  him  an  offer  to  go  out  there,  to 
their  house,  at  a  rising  salary  of  300  rupees  a 


is  over,  but  it  has  left  its  scars.  Strange !  I 
have  been  poor  all  my  life,  yet  I  never  till 
now  felt  an  actual  terror  of  poverty/' 

Hilary  shrank  within  herself,  less  even  at 
the  words  than  at  something  in  their  tone — 
something  hard,  nay  fierce;  something  atonce 
despairing  and  aggressive. 

"  It  is  strange,"  she  said  :  "  such  a  terror  is 
not  like  you.  I  feel  none  ;  I  can  not  even  un- 
derstand it." 

"  No,  I  knew  you  could  not,"  he  muttered; 
and  was  silent. 

So  was  Hilary.  A  vague  trouble  came  over 
her.  Could  it  be  that  he,  Robert  Lyon,  had 
been  seized  with  the  auri  sacra  fames,  which 
he  had  so  often  inveighed  against  and  despis- 
ed ?  that  his  long  battle  with  poverty  had 
caused  in  him  such  an  overweening  desire  for 
month  for  three  years  :  after  the  third  year  to  riches  that,  to  obtain  them,  he  would  sacrifice 
become  a  junior  partner  :  remaining  at  Bom-  every  thing  else,  exile  himself  to  afar  countrv 


bay  in  that  capacity  for  two  years  more. 

This  he  tola  to  Hilary  and  Ascott  in  almost 
as  few  words  as  I  have  here  put  it — for  brevity 


for  years,   selling  his  verv   life  and  soul  for 
gold? 

Such  a  thought  of  him  was  so  terrible — that 


seemed  a  refuge  to  him.  It  was  also  to  one  of  is,  would  have  been  were  it  tenable — that 
them.  But  Ascott  asked  so  many  questions  Hilary  for  an  instant  telt  herself  shiver  all 
that  his  aunt  needed  to  ask  none.  She  onl\|Over.  The  next  she  spoke  out — injustice  tc 
.listened,  and  tried  to  take  all  in,  and  understand  him  she  forced  herself  to  speak  out — all  her 
it.  that  is,  in  a  consecutive,  intelligent,  business  honest  soul. 

shape,  without  feeling  it.  She  dared  not  let:  "  I  do  believe  that  this  going  abroad  to  make 
herself  feel  it,  not  foY  a  second,  till  they  were  a  fortune,  which  young  men  so  delight  in.  is 
out.  arm-in-arm,  under  the  quiet  winter  stars,  often  a  most  fatal  mistake.  They  g've  up  tar 
Then  she  heard  his  voice  asking  her,  more  than  they  gain — country,  home,  health. 

•'So  you  think  I  was  right?*'  II  think  a  man  has.no  rightto  sell  his  life  any 

more  than  his  soul  for  so  many  thousand- 


"  Right?"  s-he  echoed  mechanically. 

*•  I  mean  in  accepting  that  sudden  chance, 
and  changing  my  whole  plan  of  life.  I  did  not 
do  it — believe  me — without  a  motive." 

"What  motive?  she  would  once  unhesita- 
tingly have  asked:  now  she  could  not. 

Robert  Lyon  continued  speaking,  distinctly 
and  yet  in  an  undertone,  that  though  Ascott 
was  walking  a  few  yards  off',  Hilary  felt  was 


year. 

Robert  Lyon  smiled — '"No,  and  I  am  not 
selling  mine.  With  my  temperate  habits  I 
have  as  good  a  chance  of  health  at,  Bombay  as 
in  London — perhaps  better.  And  the  years  I 
must  be  absent  I  would  have  been  absent  al- 
most as  much  from  you — I  mean  they  would 
have  been  spent  in  work  as  engrossing  and  a- 
hard.     They  vviU  soon  pas.s,  and  then  I  shall 

Do  von  think  I  are 


meant  for  her  alone  to  hear 

.  "The  change  is,  you  perceive,  from  the  lifeicome  home  rich — rich, 
of  a  student  to  that  of  a  man  of  business.     Iigrowing  mercenary?" 
do  not  deny  that  I  preferred  the  first.     Once!     "  No." 
upon  a  time  to  be  a  fellow  in  a  college,  or  a!     "Tell  me  what  you  do  think  about  me?'* 


professor,   or  the  like,  was   my  utmost  aim 
and  I  would  have  half  killed  myself  to  attain 
it.     Now,  1  think  differently.'"' 

He  paused,  but  did  not  seem  to  require  an 
answer,  and  it  did  not  come. 

"  I  want,  not  to  be  rich,  but  to  get  a  decent 
competenco^and  to  get  it  as  soon  as  I  can. 


"  I — can  not  quite  understand.'" 
"And  I  cannot  make  you  understand.    Per- 
haps I  will,  some  day  when  I  come  back  again. 
Till  then,  you  must  trust  me,  Hilary." 

It  happens  occasionally,  in  moments  of  a!' 
but  intolerable  pain,  that  some  small  thing,  a 
word,  a  look,  a  touch  of  a  hand,  lets  in  such 
want  not  to  ruin  my  health  with  incessant  a  gleam  of  peace  that  nothing  ever  extin- 
study.  I  have  already  injured  it  a  good  deal. "Iguishes  tb£  light  of  it:  it  busns  on  for  years 
"  Have  yon  been  rTl  ?  You  never  said  so.'' and  years,  sometimes  clear,  sometimes  ob- 
"Oh  no.  it  was  hardly  worth  while.  Andscured,  but  as  ineffaceable  from  life  and  mem- 
I  knew  an  active  life  would  soon  set  me  right  ory  as  a  star  from  its  place  in  the  heavens, 
again.  No  fear !  there's  life  in  theold  dog  yet. [Such,  both  then,  and  through  the  lonely  years 
He  does  not  wish  to  die.  But,"  Mr.  Lyon'fo  come,  were  those  five  weds,  "  You  must 
pursued,  '■  I  have  had  a   '  sair  fecht'  the  la5-'  trust  me.  Hilarv." 

year  or  two.     1  would  not  go  through  it  again,!     She  diu  .  uud  in  the  perfect  ::ess  of  that  trust 
«or  see  any  on«  dear  to  me  go  through  it.    It] her  #own.  separate  identity,   with  all^its  con- 


28 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


sciousness  of  pain,  seemed  annihilated;  she; 
did  not  think  of  herself  at  all,  only  of  him. 
and  with  him,  and  for  him.  So,  for  the  time 
being,  she  lost  all  sense  of  personal  suffering'. 
and  their  walk  that  night  was  as  cheerful  and 
happy  as  if  they  were  to  walk  together  fori 
weeks  and  months  and 'years,  in  undivided 
confidence  and  concent,  instead  of  its  being 
the  last — the  very  last. 

Some  one  has  said  that  all  lovers  have,  soon 
or  late,  to  learn  to  be  only  friends:  happiest 
and  safest  are  those  in  whom  the  friendship  is 
the  foundation — always  firm  and  ready  to  fall 
back  upon,  long  after  the  fascination  of  pas- 
sion dies.  It  may  take  a  little  from  the  ro- 
mance of  these  two  if  I  own  that  Robert  Lyon 
talked  to  Hilary  not  a  word  about  love,  and  a 
good  deal  about  pure  business,  telling  her  all 
his  affairs  and  arrangements,  and  giving  her 
as  clear  an  idea  of  his  future  life  as  it  was  pos-, 
sible  to  do  within  the  limits  of  one  brief  half 
hour.    • 

Then  casting  a  glance  round,  and  seeing  that 
Ascott  was  quite  out  of  ear-shot,  hesaid^with 
that  tender  fall  of  the  voice  that  felt,  as  some 
poet  hath  it, 

"  Like  a  still  embrace," 

"  Now  tell  me  as  much  as  you  can  about 
yourself." 

_  At  first  there  seemed  nothing  to  tell  ;  but 
gradually  he  drew  from  Hilary  a  good  deal. 
Johanna's  feeble  health,  which  caused  her 
continuing  to  teach  to  be  very  unadvisable  ; 
and  the  gradual  diminishing  of  the  school— I 
from  what  cause  they  could  'not  account — 
which  made  it  very  doubtful  whether  some 
change  would  not  soon  or  late  be  ncessarv. 

What  this  change  should  be  she  and  Mr. 
Lyon  discussed  a  little — ae  ■;•!•, 

indefiii.  itiou    of   affaire     was    !>os:-i: 

Also,  from  some  other    qu  .-    j.   his,  she 

spoke  to  him  about  another  dread  which  had 
lurked  in  her  mind,  and  yet  to  which  she 
could  give  no  tangible  shape,  about,  Ascott. 
He  could  not  remove  it,  he  did  not  attem 
but  be  soothed  it  a  little,  advising  with  her'  as 
to  the  best  way  of  managing  the  wilful  lad. 
His'strong,  clear  sense,  just  judgment,  and, 
above  all,  a  certain  un3poken  sense  of  union, 
as  if  all,  that  concerned  her  and  hers  he  took 
naturally  upon  himself  as  his  own,  gave  Hila- 
ry such  comfort  that,  even  on  this  night,  with 
a  full  consciousness  oi'  nil  'hat  was  to  follow, 
ahe  was  happy— nay.  she  uacLnotbeen  so  ha  o 
py  foryeais.     Perh    .  .     ;.        :(,id. 

the  glorious  truth  o;  tru  lrl  recog- 

nition, spoken  or  silent.,   co  the  only 

perfect  joy  of  life,  that  of  t»  >  tmUU  one)—] 
haps  she  had  net  mee 

ahe  wrf.s  born.  •   , 

The  last  thing  he  d   !  ,;,■  J;,;,  give 

him  an  assurance  thai  in  any  and  all  difnen 
ahe  would  apply  to  him. 


"  To  me,  and  to  noone  else,  remember.  No 
one  but  myself  must  help  you.  And  I  will,  so 
long  as  I  am  alive.     Do  you  believe  this?" 

She  looked  up  at  him  bv  the  lamp  light,  and 
said,  "  I  do." 

'  And  vou  promise?" 

"  Yes." 

Then  they  loosed  arms,  and  Hilary  knew 
that  they  should  never  walk  together  again 
till — when  and  how  ? 

Returning,  of  course,  he  walked  with  Mise 
Leaf:  and  throughout  the  next  day,  a  terribly  • 
wet  Sunday,  spent  by  them  entirely  in  the  lit- 
tle parlor,  they  had  not  a  minute  of  special  or 
private  talk  together.  He  did  not  seem  tc 
wish  it;  indeed,  almost  avoided  it. 

Thus  slipped  away  the  strange,  still  day — a 
Sunday  never  to  be  forgotten.  At  night,  after 
prayers  were  over,  Mr  Lyon  rose  suddenly, 
saying  he  must  leave  them  now;  he  was  obli- 
ged to  start  from  Stowbur-y  at  daybreak. 

"  Shall  we  not  see  you  again  ?"  asked  Jc- 
hanna. 

"No.  This  will  be  mv  last  Sunday  in  En- 
gland.    Good  by!" 

He  turned  excessively  pale,  shook  hand 
lently  with  them  all — Hilary  last — and  almost 
before  they  recognized  the  fact,  he  was  gone. 

With  him  departed,  not  all  Hilary's  peace 
or  faith  or  courage  of  heart,  for  to  all  whole 
truly,  while  the  best  beloved  lives,  and  lives 
worthily,  no  parting  is  hopeless  and  no  grief, 
overwhelming;  but  all  *the  brightness  of  her 
youth,  all  the  sense  of  joy  that  young  people 
have  in  loving,  and  in  being  beloved  again,  in 
fond  meetings  and  fonder  partings,, in  endk 

ke  and  talks,  in  sweet  kisses  and  clinging 
am  .  v  ..h  happiness  was  not  for  her  :  when, 
sire  saw  it  the  lot  of  others,  she  said  to  herseH 
■  •times  with  a  natural  sharp  sting  of  pair, 
but  oftener  with  a  solemn  acquiescence,  "  It  is 
the  will  of  God  :  it  is  the  will  of  tiud." 

Johanna.  Too,  who   would  have  given  her 
life  almost  to  bring  some  color    back  to  the 
white  face  of  her  darling,  of  whom  she  asked 
no  questions,  and  who  never  complained  nor. 
confessed  any  thing,  many  and  many  a  night 
when  Hilary  either  lay  awake  by  her  side,  or- 
tossed  and  moaned  in  her  sleep,  till  the  eld 
sister  took  her  in  her  arms  like  a  baby  —Jo- 
hanna, too.  said  to  herself.   "  This  is  the  will 
ot  God."' 

I  have  told  thus  much  in  detail,  the  brief, 
sad  story  of  Hilary's  youth,  to  |)iow  how  im- 
ible  i;  was  that  Elizabeth  Hand  could  live 
in  the  house  with  these  two  women  without 
being  strongly  infhiencfU  by  them,  as  even 
person —  ly  every    woman — influence.'1, 

for  good  or  '"or  nvil  every  other  person  connect- 
ed, with  her,  or  dependent  upon  her. 

Elizabeth  was  a  girl  of  close  observation  and 
keen  .  .      Besides,    to    must  people, 

whether  or  not  their  sympathy  be  univerotti, 
eo  far  a*  the  individual  is  concerned,  any  deep 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


29 


attection  generally  lends  eves,  tact,  and  deli- 
cacy. 

Thus  when  on  the  Monday  morning  at  break- 
fast Miss  Selina  observed,  "  What  a  fine  day 
Mr.  Lyon  was  havingfor  his  journey  :  what  a 
lucky  fellow  he  was  ;  how  he  would  be  sure 
to  make  a  fortune,  and -if  60,  she  wondered 
whether  they  should  ever  see  or  hear  any 
thing  of  him  again" — Elizabeth,  from  the 
glimpse  she  caught  of  Miss  Hilary's  face,  and 
from  the  quiet  way  in  which  Miss  Leaf  merely 
answered,  "  Time  will  show  :"  and  began  talk- 
ing to  Selina  about  some  other  subject — Eliz- 
abeth resolved  never  in  any  way  to  make  the 
smallest  allusion  to  Mr.  Robert  Lyon.  Some- 
thing had  happened,  she  did  not  know  what : 
and  it  was  not  her  business  to,  find  out ;  the 
family  affairs,  so  far  as  she  was  trusted  with 
them,  were  warmly  her  own,  but  into  the 
family  secrets  she  had  no  right  to  pry. 

Yer,  long-after  Miss  Selina  had  ceased  to 
"wonder"  about  him,  or  even  to  name  him — 
his  presence  01  absence  did  not  touch  her  per- 
sonally, and  she  was  always  the  centre  of  her 
own  small  world  of  interest— the  little  maid- 
servant kept  in  her  mind,  and  pondered  over 
at  odd  limes  every* possible  solution  of  the 
mystery  of  this  gentleman's  sudden  visit  ;  of 
the  long  wet  Sunday  when  he  sat  all  day  talk- 
vith    her  mistresses  in  the  parlor;  of  the 


And  the  sight  of  Miss  Plilary  going  about 
the  house  and  school  room  as  usual,  with  that 
poor  white  face  of  hers;  nay,  gradually  bring- 
ing to  the  family  fireside,  as  usual,  her  harm- 
less little  joke,  an,d  her  merry  laugh  at  it  and 
herself — who  shall  say  what  lessons  may  no', 
have  been  taught  by  "this  to  the  humble  serv- 
ant, dropping  deep  sown  into  her  heart,  to 
germinate  and  fructify,  as  her  future  life's 
needs  required?. 

It  might  have  been  so — God  knows!  He 
alone  can  know,  who,  through  what  (to.  us) 
seem  the  infinite  littleness  of  our  mortal  exist- 
ence, is  educating  us  into  the  infinite  greatness 
of  His  and  our  immortalitv. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Autumn  soon  lapsed  into  winter ;  Christ- 
mas came  and  went,  bringing,  not  Ascott,  as 
they  hoped  and  he  had  promised,  but  a  very 
serious  evil  in  the  shape  of  sundry  bills  of  his, 
which,  he  confessed  in  a  most  piteous  letter  to 
his  Aunt  Hilary,  were  absolutely  unpayable 
out  of  his  godfather's  allowance.  They  were 
not  large — or  would  not  have  seemed  so  to 
rich  people — and  they  were  for  no  more  bla- 
niable  luxuries  than  horse  hire,  and  a  dinner 
evening  prayer,  when  Miss  Leaf  had  twice  to  or  two  to  friends  out  in.the-country  ;  but  they 
stop,  her  voice  faltered  so;  and  of  the  night: looked  serious  to  a  household  which  rarely 
when,  long  after  all  the  others  had  gone  to  was  more  than  five  pounds  beforehand  with 
bed.  Elizabeth,  coming  suddenly  into  the -par-  the  world.* 

lor,  had  found  Miss  Hilary  sitting  alone  over  He  had  begged  Aunt  Hilary  to  keep  hisse- 
the  embers  of  the  fire,  with  the  saddest,  sad-  cret,  but  that  was  evidently  impossible  ;  so  on 
dest  look!  so  that  the  girl  had  softly  shut  the  the  day  the  school  accounts  were  being  written 
floor  again  without  ever  speaking  to  "Mis-out  and  sent  in,  and  their  amount  anxiously 
sis."  (reckoned,  she  laid  before  her  sisters  the  lad's 

Elizabeth  did  more;  which,  strange  as  it  lettei,  full  of  penitence  and  promises 
may  appear,   a  servant  who  is  supposed  tp 
know  nothing  of  any  thing  that  has  happened 
can  often  do  better  than  a  member  of  the  faui- 


I  will  be  careful — I  will  indeed — if  you 
will  help  me  out  this  once,  dear  Aunt  Hilary  ; 
and  don't  think    too   ill  of  me.     I  have  done 


ily  who  knows  every  thing,  and  this  knowledge  nothing  wicked.  And  you  don't  know  Lon- 
is  sometimes  the  most  irritating  consciousness  don  ;  you  don't  know,  with  a  lot  of  young 
a  sufferer  has.  She  followed  her  young  mis-1  fellows  about  one,  how  very  hard  it  is  to  say 
tress  with  a  steady  watchfulness,  so  quiet  and  no. 


silent  that  Hilary  never  found  it  out;  saved 
her  every  little  household  care,  gave  herevery 
little  household  treat.  Not  much  to  do,  and 
less  to- be  chronicled;  but  the  way  in  which 
she  did  it  was  all. 

During  the  long  dull  winter  days,  to  come 
in  and  find  the  parlor  fire  always  bright,  the 
hearth  clean  swept,  and  the  room  tidy  :  never 


At  that  unlucky. postscript  the  Misses  Leaf 
sorrowfully  exchanged  looks.  Little  the  lad 
thought  about  it:  but  these  few.  words  were 
the  very  sharpest  pang  Ascott  had  ever  given 
to  Jiis  aunts. 

"  What's  bred  in  the  bone  will  come  out  in 
the  flesh."  Like  father  like  son."  "Thesins 
of  the  parents  shall  be  visited  on  the  children." 


to  enter  the  kitchen  without  the  servant's  face  So  runs  many  a  proverb  ;  so  confirms  the  un- 
clearing  up  into  a  smile;  when  her  restlesslerring  decree  of  a  just  God,  who  would  not  be 
irritability  made  her  forget  things  and  growja  just  God  did  He  allow  Himself  to  break  His 
quite  vexed  in  the  search  after  them,  to  seefown  righteous  laws  for  the  government  of  the 
that  somehow  her  shoes  were  never  misplaced,  universe  :  did  He  falsify  the  requirements  of 
and  her  gloves  alw.ays  came  to  hand  in  some  His  own  holy  and  pure  being,  by  permitting 
mysterious  manner — these  trifles,  in  her  first  any  other  wages  for  sin  than  death.  '  And 
heavy  days  of  darkness,  soothed  Hilary  more  though,  through  His  mercy,  sin  forsaken  es- 
than  words  could  tell.  [capes  sin's  penalty,  and  every  human  being 


30 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


iias  it  in  his  own  power  to  modify,   if  not  to:  understand 

concur,  any  hereditary  moral  as  well  as  phys-1     '«  We  must  not  let  the  boy  remain  in  debt ; 

ical  disease,  thereby  avoiding  the  doom  and  it  would  be  such  a  disgrace  to  the  family  " 

alleviating  the  curse,  still  the  original  Jaw  re-      "  It  is  not  the   remaining   in  debt,  but  the 

mams  in  force,   and  ought  to  remain,  an  ex-  incurring  oft  it,  which   is  the  real  disgrace  to 

ample  and  a  warning.     As  true  as  that  every  A«c6tt  and  the  family  "  • 

individual    sin  that  a   man   commits  breeds!     "  Hush,  Hilary/',  said  Johanna,  poinUi 

multitudes   more,   is  it  that  every  todividual  the  opening  dooi ;  but  it  was  too  late 

sinner  may  transmit  his. own  peculiar tvDe  of      pi;,„u„.i  ■  u     ■     •  ,  '     , 

weakness  or   wickedness  to  a  whole  racTdis-  I  JSfw ft  IT8  *  J  'KZ  ^  lU 

appearing^  one  generation',  re-appearing  in  J^^u1?  tZ  TF^f  7*a  ?**  T°* 

another,  exactly  the  same  as  physical  pecu-i  ™S!  K        'i      "  «*&"?*  h/T~haA 

liaritiesdo.  requiring   the  utmost  caution  MSS^^A^^U^^^^ 

tier  conscious  lace  showed  it ;  more  especially 


education  to  counteract  the  terrible  tendencies 
of  nature— the  "something  in  the  blood"  which 
is  so  difficult  to  eradicate-:   which 
make  the  third  amijfourth  generation  execrate 
the  memory  of  him  or  her  who  was  its  origin. 

The  long  life-curse  of  Henry  Leaf  the  elder, 
and  Henry  Leaf  the  younger,  had.  been — the 
women  of  the  family  well  knew— that  they 
were  men  who  "  couldn't  say  No."  So  keenh 
were  the  three  sisters  alive  to  this  fault — i'l 
could  hardly  be  called  a  crime,  pud  yet  m  its 
consequences  it  was  so — so  sickening  the  ter- 
ror of  it  which  their  own  wretched  experience 
had  implanted  in  their  minds,  that  during  As- 
cott's  childhood  and  youth  his  very  fractious- 
ness  and  roughness,  his  little  selfishness,  and 
his  persistence  in  his  own  will  against  theirs, 
had  been  hailed  by  his  aunts  as  a  good  omen 
that  he  would  grow  up  "so  unlike  his  poor 
lather." 

11  the  two  unhappy  Henry  Ifcafs — father 
and  son — could  have  come  out  of  their  graves 
that  night  and  beheld  these  three  women, 
daughters  and  sisters,  sitting  with  Ascott's  let- 
ter on  the  table,  planning  how  the  household's 
small  expenses  could  be  contracted,  it- 
smaller  luxuries  relinquished,  in  order  that  the 
boy  might  honorably  pay  for  pleasures  he 
might  so  easily  have  done  without!  If  they 
could  have  seen  the  weight  of  apprehension 


the  bright  scarlet  which  covered  both  her 
cheeks  when  Miss  Leaf  said  "  Hush  \"  She 
ay  eve^st00(^  apparently  irresolute  as  to  whether  she 
should  run  away  again  :  and  then  Her  native 
honesty  got  the  upper  hand,  and  she  advanced 
into  the  room. 

"  If  you  please,  missis.  I  didn't  mean  to— 
but  I've  heard—" 

"  What  have  vou  heard  ;  that  is.  how 
much?" 

"Just  what  Miss  Hilary  said.  Don't  be 
afeared.  I  shan't  tell.  J  never  chatter  about 
the  family.     Mother  told  me  not." 

"You  owe  a  great  deal,  Elizabeth,  to  your 
good  mother.     .Now  go  away." 

'•  And  another  rime."  said  Miss  Selina, 
"  knock  at  the  door." 

This  was  Elizabeth's  first  initiation  into 
what  many  a  servant  has  to  share — the.seoret 
burden  of  the  family.  After  that  day.  though 
they  Sid  not  actually  confide  in  her."  her  mis- 
tresses used  no  effort  to  conceal  thai  they  had 
cares:  that  the  domestic  economies  must,  this 
winter,  lie  especially  studied:  there  must  fte 
no  extra  fires,  no  candles  left  burning  tp  waste  ; 
and  once  a  week  or  so,  a  tew  butterfesa  br 
fasts  or  meatless  dinners  must  be  partaken  of 
cheerfully,  in  both  parlor  and  kitchen.  The 
Misses  Leaf  never  stinted  their  servant  in  anv 


which  then  sank  like  a  atone  on   these  long  "'  which  they  did  not  stint  themselves 


tried 'hearts,  never  to  be  afterward  removed  ; 
lightened  sometimes,  but  always — however 
Ascot:  might  promise  and  amend — always 
there  !  On  such  a  discoi  ery,  surely,  these  two 
"poor. ghosts''  would  have  fled  away  moan- 
ing, wishing  they  had  died  childless,  or  that 
during  their  mortal  lives  any  amount  of  self- 
restraint  and  self-coin  pulsion  had  purged  from 
their  natures  the  accursed  thing:  the  Bin  which  any  rea 
had  worked  itself  out  in  sorrow  upon  every 
one  belonging  to  them,  years  after  their  owii 
laid  in  the  quiet  dust. 
;  We  must  do  it,"  was  the  conclusion  the 
Mi--e>  Leaf  una  vimoush  came  to;  even  Seli- 
na; who.  with  ai.  her  faults,  haVTa  fair  share 


Strange. to  say,  in  spite  of  Miss  -  pro- 

phecies, the  girl's  respectful  conduct  did  not 
abate:  on  the  contrary,  it  seemed  to  increase. 
The  nearer  she   was  lifted  to  her  mistress'-; 
level,  the  more  her  mind   grew,  so   that  sin 
could  better  understand  her  misti 
and  the  deeper   became  her  consciousm 
the  only  thing  which   gives  one  human  bein- 
over    another — personal 


authority 
character; 

Therefore,  though  the  family  means  were' 
narrowed,  and  the  family  .luxuries  few,  Eliza- 
beth cheerfully  put  up  with  all  ;  she  even  felt 
a  sort  of  pride  in  wasting  nothing  and  in  ma- 
king the  bes!  of  every  thing,  a.- the  others  did. 


of  good  feeling  and  ct  that  close  clmgmg  to  Perhaps,  it  may  le"8aid*»he  was  an  exceptions 
kindred  whu  h  is  found  in  fallen   households,  servant :  and  yet  I  would  not  do  her  class  the 


or  households  whom  the  sacred  bond  of  com 
mon  poverty,  has  drawn  together  in  a  way  that 


wrong  to  believe  so-I  would  rather  believe  thai 
there  are  many  such  among  it ;    many  good, 


i  ui     j  — il •     i •    "*—  ™"*w  <*1C  maiijr  ouuii    among  u  ;    many  goou, 

large,  well-to-do  home  circles  can  never  quitej.honest,  faithful  girls,  who  only  need  goodmie- 


MISTRESS  AtfD  MAID. 


31 


tresses  untolwhorn  to  be  honest  and  faithful, 
and  they  would  be  no  less  so  than  Elizabeth 
Hand.  ' 

The  months,  went  by — heavy  and  anxious 
months  :  tor  the  school  gradually  dwindled 
away,  and  Ascott'a  letter — now  almost  the  only 
connection  his  aunts  had  with  the  outer  world. 


but  what  he  wrote  was  like  what  he  spoke, 
the  accurate  reflection  of  his  own  clear,  orig- 
inal mind  and  honest,  tender  heart. 

His  letters  gave  none  the  less  .com'fort  be- 
oause,  nominally,  they  were  addressed  to 'Jo- 
hanna. This  might  have  been  from  some 
crotchet  of  over-reserve,  delicacy,  or  honor- 


fpr  poverty  necessarily  diminished  even  their  the  same  which  made  him  part  from  her  for 


years  with  no  other  word  than,  '  You  must, 
trust  me.  Hilary;"  but  whatever  it  was  she 
respected  it,  and  she  did  trust  him.  And 
whether  Johanna  answered  his  letters  or  not, 
month  by  month  they  unfailingly  came,  keep- 
ing her  completely  informed  of  all  his  proceed- 
ings, and  letting  out,  as  epistles  written  from 
over  the  seas  often  do,  much  mere  of  himself 
and  his  character  than  he  was  probably  aware 
that  he  betrayed. 

And  Hilary,  whose  sole  experience  of  man- 
kind had  been  the  scarcely  remembered  father, 
the  too  well  remembered  brother,  and  the  anx- 
iously watched  nephew,  thanked  God  that 
there  seemed  to  be  one  man  in  the  world  whom 
a  woman  could  lean  her  heart  upon,  and  not 
feel  the  support  brSak  like  a  reed  beneath  her 
— one  man  whom  she  could  entirely  believe  in. 
and  safely  and  sacredly  trust. 


small  Stowbury  society — became  more  and 
more  unsatisfactory;  and  the  want  of  infor- 
mation in  them  was  not  supplied  by  those  other 
letters  which  had  once  kept  Johanna's  heart 
easy  concerning  the  boy. 
"  Mr.  Lyon  had  written  once  before  sailing, 
nay.  after  sailing,  for  he  had  sent  it  home  by 
the  pilot  from  the  English  Channel:  then 
there  was,  of  course,  'silence.  October,  No- 
vember^December,  January,  February,  March 
— how  often  did  Hilary  count  the  months,  and 
wonder  how  soon  a  letter  would  come,  wheth- 
er a  letter  ever  would  comeagain.  And  some- 
limes — the  sharp  present  stinging  her  with  its 
small  daily  pains,  the  future  looking  dark 
before  her  and  them  all — she  felt  so  forlorn, 
so  forsaken,  that  but  for  a  certain  tiny  well- 
spring  of  hope,  which  rarely  dries  up  till  long 
after  three-ar.d  twenty,  she  could  have  sat 
down  and  sighed,  "  My  good  days  are  done." 

Rich  people  break  their  hearts  much  sooner 
than  poor  people  ;  that  is,  *hey  more  easily 
get  into  that  morbid  state  which  isglorified  by 
the  term,  "  a  broken  heart."  Poor  people  can 
ndt  afford  It.  Their  constant  labor  "physics 
pain."  Their  few  and  narrow  pleasures  sel- 
dom pall.  Holy  poverty  !  black  as  its  dark 
side  is,  it  has  its  bright  side  too,  that  is,  when 
it  is  honest,  fearless,  free  from  selfishness, 
wastefulness,  and  bickerings  :  above  all,  free 
from  the  terror  of  debt. 

"  We'll  starve  we'll  go  into  the  work  house 
rather  than  we'll  go  into  debt!"  cried  Hilary 
once,  in  a  passion  of  tears,  when  she  was  in 
aore  want  of  a  shawl,  and  Selina  urged  her  to 
get.  it,  and  wait  till  she  could  pay  for  it.  "Yes: 
the  workhouse!  It  would  be  less  shame  to 
be  honorably  indebted  to  the  laws  of  the  land 
than  to  be  meanlv,  indebted,  under  false  pre- 
tences, to  any  individual  in  it-" 

And  when,  in  payment  for  some  accidental 
lessons,  she  got  next  month  enough  money  to  ance.  For  they  were  poorer  than  they  used 
buy  a  shawl,  and  a  bonnet,  too— nay,by  greatlto  be;  many  more  schools  had  arisen  in  the 
ingenuity,  another  bounet  for  Johanna— Hil-itown,  and  theirs  had  dwindled  away.  It  was 
ary  could  have  danced  and  sang — 6ang,  in  thej  becoming  a  source  of  serious  anxiety  whether 
gladness  and  relief  of  her  heart,  the  glorious  they  could  possibly  make  ends  meet;  and 
euthanasia  of  poverty.  when,  the  next  Christmas,  Ascott  sent  them  a 

But  these  things  happened  only  occasional-' five  pound  note — an  actual  five  pound  note, 
iy  :  the  daily  life  was  hard  still  ;  ay,  very  hard. 'together  with  a  fond,  grateful  letter  that  was 
even  though  at  last  came  the  letter  from  "  for-  worth  it  all — the  aunts  were  deeply  thankful, 
eign  parts;"   and  following  it,  at  regular  inland  very  hay; 

tervals,  other  letters.  They  were  full  of  facts!  But  still  the  school  declined.  One  night 
rather  than  feelings — simple,  straightforward  ;  they  were  speculating  upon  the  causes  of  this, 
Worth  little  as  literary  compositions;  school-jand  Hilary  was  declaring,  in  a  half  jocular, 
master  and  learned  man  as  he  was,  there  wasjhalf  earnest  way,  that  it  must  be  because  a 
nothing  literary  or  poetical  about  Mr.  Lyon  ;  prophet  is  never  a  prophet  in  his  own  ceuu- 


OHAPTEK  VIII. 

Time  slipped  by.  Robert  Lyon  had  been 
away  more  than  three  years.  But  in  the  mo- 
notonous life  of  the  three  sisters  at  Stowbury, 
nothing  was  changed.  Except,  perhaps,  Eliz- 
abeth, who  had  grown  quite  a  woman  ;  might 
have  passed  almost  for  thirty  ;  so  solidly  old 
fashioned  were  her  fi  i  her  manners. 

Ascott  Leaf  had  finished  his  walking  the 
hospitals  and -his  examinations,  and  was  now 
fitted  to  commence  practice  for  himself.  His 
godfather  had  still  continued  his  allowance, 
though  once  or  twice,  when  he  came  down  to 
Stowbury,  he  had  asked  his  aunts  to  help  him 
m  small  debts-  the  last  time  in  one  a  little 
more  serious;  when,  after  some  sad  and  sore 
consultation,  it  had  been  resolved  to  tell  him 
he  must  contrive  to  live  within  his  own  allow- 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


32 


try. 

"  Tlie  Stowbury    people  will  never  believe 
.  how  clever  I  am.     Only,  it  is  a  useless  sort  of 
cleverness,  I  fear.     Greek.  Latin,  and  mathe- 
matics are    no  good  to   infants    under"  seven, 
•such  as  Stowbury  persists  in  sending  to  us." 

'•They  think  1  am  only  fit  t©  teach  little 
children — and  perhaps  it  is  true."  said  Miss 
Leaf. 

"I  wish  you  had  not  to  teach  at  all.     I  wish 
I  was  a  daily  governess — I  might  be,  and  earn] 
enough  to  keep   the  whole  family  :  only,  not! 
here." 

"  I  wonder,  said  Johanna,  thoughtfully,  "if 
we  shall  have  to  make  a  change." 

"A  change!"  It  almost  pained  thp  elder 
sister  to  see  how  the  younger  brightened  up  at 
the  word.  "Where  to— -London  ?  Oh,  I  have 
so  longed  to  go  and  live  in  London!  But  I 
thought  you  would  not  like  it.  Johanna/' 

Thar  was  true.  Miss  Leaf,  whom  feeble 
health  had  made  prematurely  oM,  would  wil- 
lingly have  ended  her  days  in  the  familiar 
town;  but  Hilary  was  young  and  strong.  Jo- 
hanna called  to  mind  the  dfys  when  she  too 
had  felt  that  rest  was  only  another  name  for 
dullness  ;  and  when  the  fnost  difficult  thing 
possible  to  her  was  what  seemed  now  so  easy 
. — to  sit  down  and  endure. 

Besides,  unlike  herself,  Hilary  had  her  life 
all  before  her.  It  might  be  a  happy  life,  safe 
in  a  good  man's  tender  keeping;  those  unfail- 
ing letters  from  India  seemed  to  prophecy  thai 
it  would.  But  no  one  could  say.  Miss  Leaf's 
own  experience  had  not  led  her  to  place  much 
faith  in  either  men  or  happiness. 

Still,  whatever  Hilary's  future  might  be,  it 
wouklftikely  be  a  very  different  one  from  that 
quiet,  colorless  life  of  hers.  And  as  she  looked 
at  her  younger  sister,  with  the  twilight  glow 
511  her  face — they  were  taking  an  evening  stroll 
up  and  down  the  terrace — Johanna  hoped  and 
prayed  it  might  be  so.  Her  own  lot  seemed 
easy  enough  for  herself;  but  for  Hilary — she 
would  like  to.  see  Hilary  something  better  than 
a  poor  schoolmistress  at  Stowbury. 

No  more  was  said  at  that  time,  but  Johan- 
na had  the  deep,  still,  Mary-like  nature,  which 
'•kept"  things,  and  "pondered  them  in  her 
heart."  So  that  when  the  subject  came  up 
again  she  was  able  to  meet  it  with  that  sweet 
calmness,  which  was  her  especial  characteris- 
tic— the  unruffled  peace  of  a  soul,  which  no 
worldly  storms  could  disturb  overmuch,  for 
it  had  long  since  cast  anchor  in  the  world  un- 
seen. 

The  chance  which  revived  the  question  of 
the  Great  Metropolitan  liegira,  as  Hilary 
called  it;  was  a  letter  from  Mr.  Ascott,  as  fol- 
lows : 

•■Mis.-;  LbAE- 

'■Mvdaji,— 1  shall  be  obliged  by  your  informing  me  if  it 
is  your  wish,  as  it  seems  to  be  your  nephew's,  that  instead 
of  returning  to  Stowbury,  he  Bhould  settle  in  London  as  a 
surgeon  and  general  practitioner  I 


•'  His  education  complete,  I  consider  that  I  haTe  done  my 
duty  by  him ;  but  I  may  assist  him  occassonally  still,  unless 
he  turns  out — as  his  father  did  befire  him — a  young  man 
who  prefers  being  helped  to  helping  himself,  in  which  case 
I  Bhall  have  nothing  more  to  ilo  with  him. 

"I  remain.  Madam,  your  obedient  servant,  * 

•■  I'etkp.  Ascott." 

The  sisters  read  this  letter,  passing  it  round 
the  table,  none  of  them    apparently   likii 
he  the  first  to'  comment  upon    it.     At  length 
Hilary  said  : 

"I  think  that  reference  to  poor  Usury  ie 
perfectly  brutal." 

"  And  yet  he  was  very  kind  to  Henry.  And 
if  it  had  not  been  for  hiscommon  sens*  in  send-, 
ing  poor  little  Ascott  and  the  nurse  down  to 
Stowbury  the  baby  might  have  died.  But  you 
don't  remember  any  thing  of  that  time,  my 
dear,"  said  Johanna,  sighing. 

"He  has  been  kind  enough,  though*he  has 
done  it  in  such  a  patronizing  way."  observed 
Selina.  "  I  suppose  that's  the  real  reason  of 
!iis  doing  it.  He  thinks  it  fine  to  patronize 
us,  and  show  kindness  to  our  family';  he,  the 
stout,  bullet-headed  grocer's  boy,  who  used  to 
sit  and  stare  at  us  all  church  time." 

•'  At  you — you  mean.  Wasn't  he  called 
your  beau?"  said  Hilary  mischievously,  ipon 
which  Selina  drew  herself  up  in  great  indig- 
nation. 

And  then  they  fell  to  talking  of  that  anxious 
question — Ascott's  future.  A  little  they  re- 
proached themselves  that  they  had  left  the  lad 
so  long  in  London — so  lon^out  of  the  influ- 
encc  that  might  have. counteracted  the  evil, 
sharplj  hinted  in  his  godfather's  letter.  But 
once  away — to  lure  him  back  to  their  poor 
home  was  impossible. 

"  Suppose  we  were  to  go  to  him/'  suggested' 
Hilary. 

The  poor  and  friendless  possess  one-  great- 
advantage— they  have  nobody  to  ask  advice 
of;  nobody  to  whom  it  matters  much  what 
they  do  or  where  they  go.  The  family  mind 
has  but  to  make  itself  up.  and  act  accordingly. 
Thus  within  an  hour  or  two  of  the  receipt  of 
Mr.  Ascott's  letter  Hilary  went  into  the  kitch- 
en, and  told  Elizabeth  that  as  soon  as  her 
work  was  done  Misb  Leaf  wished  to  have  a 
little  talk  with  her. 

"  Eh  !  what's  wrong?  Has  Miss  Selina  been 
a-grumbling  a*  ine  ?" 

EiKfibe'h  was  in  one  of  her  bad  hum 
which,  though  of  course  th-ey  never  ought  to 
have,  servants  do  have  as  well  as  their  supe- 
riors. Hilary  perceived  this  by  the  way  she 
threw  the  coals  on  and  toesed  the  chairs  about. 
But  to-day  her  heart  was  full  of  far  '..ore  se- 
rious cares  than  Elizabeth's  ill  temper.  She 
replied,  composedly —  ' 

"  I  have  not  heard  that  either  of  my  sisters 
is  displeased  wijh.you.  What  they  want  to 
talk  to  you  about  is  for  your  own  good.  We 
are  thinking  of  making  a  great  change.  We 
intend  to  leave  Stowbury  and  going  to  live  in 
London," 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID, 


S3 


"  Going  to  live  in  London  !" 

Now,  quick  as  her  tact  ami  observation 
were — her  lieart  taught  her  these  things — Eli- 
zabeth's  head    was   a  thorough    Saxon   one, 


Leaf  smiled,  half  sadly,  as  if  this,  the  first  of 
the  coming  changes,  hurt  her  more  than  she 
liked  to  express.  "Come,  my  girl/'  she  add- 
ed. "  vi.  u  needn't  look  so  serious.     We  are  not 


slow  to  receive  impressions,  it  was  a  family, in  the  least  vexed  with  you;  we  shall  be  very 
saving,  that  nothing  was  80  hard  as  to  put  a I sorry  to  lose  you,  and  we  will  give  you  the 
new  idea  into  Elizabeth  except  to  get  it  out  best  of  characters  when  you  leave."    • 


again. 

for  this  reason  Hilary  preferred  paving  the 
way  quietly,  before  startling  her  with  the 
den  intelligence  of  their  contemplated  change. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  say  to  the  plan  ?"  ask- 
ed she.  .good  humoredly. 

•'  I  dun  no!  like  it  at  all,"  was  the  brief  gruff 
answer  of  Elizabeth  Hand.  • 

Now  it  was  one  of  Miss  Hilary's  doctrines 
that  no  human  being  is  good  for  much  unless 
he  or  she  has  what  is  called  "  a  will  of  one's 
own."  Perhaps  this,  like  many  anothercreed, 
was  with  her  the  result  of  circumstances.  But 
she  held  it  firmly,  and  with  that  exaggerated 
one-sidedness  of  feeling  which  any  bitter  fam- 
ily or  personal  experience  is  sure  to  leave  be- 
hind—  a  strong  will  was  her  first  attraction  to 
every  body.  It  had  been  so  in  the  case  of 
Robert  Lyort,  and  not  less  in  Elizabeth's. 

But  this  quality  has  its  inconveniences. 
When  the  maid  began  sweeping  up  her  hearth 
with  a  noisy,  angry  gesture,  the  mistress  did 
the  wisest  and  most  dignified  thing  a  mistress 
could  do  under  the  circumstances.,  arid  which 


"  1  dunnot — mean — to  leave." 

Elizabeth  threw  out  the  words  like  pellets, 
in  a  choked  fashion,  and  disappeared  suddenly 
from  the  parlor. 

'•  Who  would  have  thought  it!"  exclaimed 
Selina;  "  I  declare  the  girl  was  crying." 

No  mistake  about  that ;  though  when,  a  few 
mi  nates  after,  Miss  Hilary  entered  the  kitchen, 
Elizabeth  tried  in  a  hurried,  shamefaced  way 
to  hide  her  tears  by  being  very  busy  over 
something.  Her  mistress  took  no  notice,  but- 
began,  as:  usual  on  washing  days,  to  assist  in 
various  domestic  matters,  in  the  midst  of 
which  she  said,  quietly, 

••  And  so,  Elizabeth,  you  would  really  like 
to  go  to  London  ?" 

-    'No!  I  shouldn't  like  it  at  all  ;  never  said 
I  should.'  But  if  you  go,  I  shall  go  too;  though 
6  is  so  ready  to  get  shut  o'  me." 

'•  It  was  for  your  own  good,  you  know." 

"  You  always  saiu  it  was  for  a  girl's  good  to 
stop  in  one  place;  and  if  you  think  I'm  going 
to  another,  I  aren't  that's  all." 

Rude  as  the  form  of  the  speech  was — almost 


she  knew  was  the  sharpest  rebuke  she  could. the  first  rude  speech  that  Elizabeth  had  ever 
administer  to  the  sensitive  Elizabeth — shej  made  to  Miss  Hilary,  and  which,  underother 
immediately  quitted  the  kitchen.  circumstances  she  would  have  felt  bound  se- 

For  an  hour  alter  the  parlor  bell  did  not jVerely  to  reprove — the  mrstress  passed  it  over, 
ring;  and  though  it  was  washing  day,  no  Mies  That  which  lay  beneath  it,  the  sharpness  of 
Hilary    appeared   to  help  in    folding  up  the  wounded    'ove,  touched   her  heart.     She  felt 


'hat,  for  all  the  girl's  rough  manner,  it  would 
have  been  hard  to  go  into  her  London  kitchen 
and  meet  a  strange    London    face',  instead  of 


clothes.  Elizabeth,,  suborned  and  wretched, 
waited  till  she  could  wait  no  longer;  then 
knocked  at  the  door,  and  asked  humbly  if  she 
should  bring  in  supper?  that  fond  homely'one  of  Elizabeth  Hand's. 

The  extreme  kindness  of  the  answer,  totfie  Still,  she  thought  it  right  to  explain  to  her 
effect  that  she  must  come  in.  as  they  wanted  to  that  London  life  might  have  many  difficulties, 
speak  to  her,  crushed  the  lingering  fragments  that,  for  the  present  at  least,  her  wages  could 
of  ill  humor  out  of  the  girl.  not  be  raised,  and  the  family  might  at  first  be 

"Miss  Hilary  has  told  you,  our  future  plans,  I  in  even    more  straitened  circumstances  than 
Elizabeth  ;  now  we  wish   to  have  a  little  talk; they  were  at  Stowbury. 
with  you  about  yours."  "Only  at  first,  though,  for  I  hope  to  find 

"Eh?"  plenty  of  pupils,  and  by-and-by  our  nephew 

"  We  conclude  you  will  not  wish  to  go  with  will  get  into  practice." 
us  to  London  :  and  it  would  be  hardly  advis-j     "  Is  it  on  account  of  him  you're  going,Mis3 
able  you  should.     You  can  get  higher  wages  Hilary  ?" 
now  than  any  we  can  afford  to  give  you  ;  in-      "Qhiefly." 

deed,  we  have  more  than  once  thought  of  tell-      Elizabeth  gavea*  grunt  which  said  as  plainly 

on  so.  and   offering  you*  your  choice  of  as  words  could  sav,  "  I  thought  so;"  and  re- 

ing  for  a  better  plac  lapsed  into  what  she,  no  doubt,  believed  to  be 

"  You're  very  kind,"  was  the  answer,  stolid  virtuous  indignation,  but  which,  as.  it  was 
rather  than  grateful.  testified  against  the  wrong  parties,  was  open 

"  No:  I  think  we  are  merely  honest.     We  to  the  less  favorable  interpretation  of  ill  hu- 
should  never  think  of  keeping  a  girl  upon  low-  mor — a  small  injustice  not  uncommon  with  us 
er  wages   than   she   was    worth.      Hitherto,  nil." 
how%ver,  the  arrangement  has  been  quite  fair  :       I  do  not  pretend  to  paint  this  young  woman 

I  you  know,  Elizabeth,  you  have  given  us  adealjaj  a  perfect  character.     She  had  her  fierce  dis- 
of  trouble  in  the  teaching  of  you."    And  Miss  j  likes  as  well  as  her  strong  fidelities ;  her  faults 
1! 


34 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


withiu  and  without,  which  liSid  to  be  struggled jumph"  which  came  down  through  the  lighted 
with,  as  all  of  us  have  to  struggle  to  the  very  windows  of  the  Town  Hall,  where  the  open-air 
end  of  our  days.  Oftentimes  not  till  the  battle  'ca  drinkers  had  adjourned  to  dance  country 
is  nigh  over—  sometimes  not  till  it  is  quite  over  dance?,  by  civic  permission,  and  in  perfectly 
— does  God  give  us  the  victory.  pectable  jollity. 

Without  more  discussion  on  either  side,  it  «  j  wonder,"  "said  Hilary— while,  despite 
was  agreed  that  Elizabeth  should  accompany  Bome  naturai  regret,  her  spirit  stretched  itself 
her  mistresses.  Even  Mrs.  Hand  seemed  to  out  eagerlv  from  the  narrowness  of  the  place 
be  [-.teased  thereat,  her  only  doubt  being  lest  ^i^  si,e  was  boj.n  into  lie  great  wide  world: 
her  daughter  should  meet  and  be  led  astray  by  t],e  WOrld  where  so  many  grand  things  were 
that  bad  woman,  Mrs.  Clifre,  Tommy  Cliffe's  thought  and  written  and  done:  the  world 
mother,  who  was  reported  to  have  gone  to  Robert  Lyon  had  so  long  fought  with,  and 
London.  But  Miss  Hilary  explained  that  this  wa8  fighting  bravelv  still—"  I  wonder,  Eliza- 
meeting  was  about  as  probable  as  the  ronton-  beth,  what  sort  of  place  London  is,  and  what 
tre  of  two  needles  -in  a  hay-rick  ;  and  besides.  om.  ]jfe  ,v\[\  be  jn  ,f '"> 

Elizabeth  was  imt  the  sort  of  girl  to  be, easily ;     E]izal)eth  gaid  nothi  For  lhe  moment 

led  astray    by  any  body.  L       f  ^  catch  the  reflected  glow  of 

*o .norhersagoodwench.thouglilsaysjh         j  .  a    ,        it      ttM  ^  inlu 

It,      replied  the   mother,   who, was  too   hard.,     •.     .      -    '..   ,  A        ■  .    •    „       -A  _M-i„f{_1 

'    ,     r.    ,  .    ,  '  .  that  look  of  mingled  resistance  and  resolution 

worked  to  have  much  sentiment  to  spare.     "1     ...  ,  *  ... °    ,       ,  -p       #     ,.,.    .■,    t 

■  i   i.v     1-ij.i     ;  ■  i         x.        i  which  was  habitual  to  her.     t  or  the  life  that 

wish  the  little  ;uns  mav  take  pattern  by  our  .     ,  ...        .,       ,       „       vV-  j*,i.„ 

w  as  to  be,   winch   neither  knew — oh,   it  they 


You'll  send  her  home,  maybe,  ink     ',  i. 
;  years'  time,  to  let  us  have  a  look 


Elizabeth 
two  or  three 
at  her  ?" 

Miss  Hilary  promised,  and  then  took  her 
way  back  through  the  familiar  old  town — so 
soon  to  be  familiar  no  more — thinking  anx- 
iously, in  spite  of  herself,  upon  those  two  or 
three  years,  andwhat  they  might  bri 

It  happened  to  be  a  notable  day — that  sun- 
shiny 28th  of  June — when  the  little,  round- 


own  1 — she  also  was  prepared. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


Tun  day  of  the  Grand  Hegira  came. 

"  1  remember,"  said  Miss  Leaf,  as  they  rum- 
bled for  the  last  time  through. the  empftj  mor- 
ning streets  of  poor  old  Sjowbury  :  "  1  renvem- 


cheeked  damsel,  who  is  a  grandmother  novi  andmother  telling  me  that  when  my' 

had  thecrown-ot  three  kingdoms  first  set  upon) grandy=her  waa  C0UTting  her,  and  she  out  of 
her  youthfal  head  ;  and  Stowbury,  like  eve-ry;^  ^  refuged  him>  ]l£rset  off  on  horeeback 
other  town  ,n  the  land,  was  a  perfect  boweFof LQ  lLoni\nn  and  ghe  wag  so  wretched  to'think 
green  arches,  garlands,  banners ;  white  cover-  lf  M  the  d  ,3  ])e  mn  on  the  jom.nev.  ailli 
ed  tables  were  spread  in   the  open  n  jn  Lcmlon  ^  that  sh  reste(J  ti|]  ,lu. 

almost  every  street,  where  poor  men  dined,  or  t  Ljm  back  mu]  then  ^mediately  married 
poor  women  drank  tea  :  and  .every  body  was  u:m  » 

out  and  abroad,  looking  at  or  sharing  in  the  .,  Xo  ^  (.atas(rophe  islikelv  to  happen I  to 
holiday  making  wild  with  merriment,  and)  of  ex  t  perhaps  t0  Elizabeth,"  said 
brimming  over  with  passionate  loyalty  to  th  aUaryj  (Fr>vi'ng  iQl gQl  Qp  &  liuIe  feeble 

Maiden  Queen.  »  mirth,  any  thing  to  pass  away  the  time  and 

That  day  is  now  twenty-iour  years  ago  :  but  ,essen  ^  .  of  £. n  whjch  wag  a]most 
all  those  who  remember  it  must  own  there  toQ  mu(jh  £r  Johanna#  "?,  What  do  you  9av? 
never  has  been  a  day  like  it  when  all  over  L)o  u  meaQ  tQ  married  m  Londoil>  E]iz. 
the  country,  every  man  s  heart  throbbed  with  aDefu  s» 

chivalrous  devotion,  every  woman's  with  wo- '  But'E,izabeth  could  make  no  answer,  even 
manly  ^tenderness,  toward  this  one  royal  girl,|to  kit|(1  Mie&  H*]ary      Thcy  bad  nQt  jlna„incd 

she  felt  the  leaving  her  native  place  so  much. 
She  had  watched  intently  the  last  glimpse  of 
xuiwj  caiicu  ,w,  Kuvpruu^M  t.ixuu»i.  mr  Stowlmrv  c]nlrch  tower/and  now  sat  with  red- 
crowd,  the  little,  timid,  widow  lady  who  had  flened     '     8tari      blanklyput  ol  thecarriage 

taken  off  the  Misses  Leaf  s  hands  their  house  window 

and  furniture,  and  whom  they  had  made  very  _,..    , 

happy — as  the  poor  otto:  can  make  those  still 

poorer  than  themselves— by  refusing  to  accept  Once  or   twice  a  li  >w  tea?  gathered  on 

any  thing  for  the  ''good  will"  of  the  school,  each  of  her  eyes,  but  it  was  shaken  olf  angrily 

Then  she  was  fetched  by  Elizabeth,  who  had  from  the  high  cheek  boms,  and  never  settled 

been  given  a  whole  afternoon's  holiday  ;  and  into  absolute  crying.     They  thought  it  be 

mistress  and  maid  went  together  home,  watch-  take  no  notice  of  her.     Only,    when  reaching 


who,  God  bless  her 
deserve  it  all. 


!  has  lived  to  letain  and' 


ing  the  last  of  the   festivities,    the  chattering 


'he  new. small  station, 


where 


tl 


le  "•  resotan! 


groups  that  still  lingered  in  the  twilight  streets,  steam  eagles''  were,   for  the  first  time,  beheld 
and  listening  to  the  merry  notes  of  the  "Tri-by  the  innocent  Stowbury  ladies,  there  areas 


MISTRESS  AKD  MAID. 


35 


a  discussion  as  to  the  manner  of  traveling. Tear,  toward  her  eldest  sister,  who  looked  so 
Miss  Leaf  said,  decided! j  "  Second olass;  and  old  and  fragile  beside  that  sturdy,  healthful 
then  we  van  keep  Elizabeth  with  us."  >n  servant  girl.     "  Elizabeth!"     Elizabeth,  rnb- 

wbich  Elizabeth'!?  mouth  melted  into  some*  bing  Miss  Leaf  a  feet,  started  £t  the  unwonted 
thing  between  a  auiver  and  a  smile,  sharpness  of  Miss  Hilary's   tone.     "There: 

Soon    ii    was'all  over,  and  the  little  house-  I'll  do  that  for  my  Bister.     Go  and  look  out  of 
hold  was  compressed  into  the  humble  second  the  window  at  London.'' 
class   carnage,    ■  hionless,      For  the  great  smoky  cloud  which  began  to 

whirling  through  indefinite  England  in  a  way  Ljse  in  tj!e  rainv  horizon  was  indeed  London, 
that  confounded   all  the::  aphy  and  to-^oon  through  the  thickening  nebula  of  houses 

pography.     Gradually  a  d|they  converged  to  what  was  then  the  nucleus 

into  heavy,  chilly  July  nun,  the  scarcely  ke;  railway  traveling,  the  Euston  Terminus, 

np  spirits  of  the  four  passengers  began  to  sink;  aD£(  were  hustled  on  to  the  platform,  and 
Johanna  grew  very  white  and  worn.  Selina  j0,t|..;]  helplessly  to  and  fro  these  poor  coun- 
became.  to  use  Ascott's  phrase,  'as  cross  as  trv  j^Jies !  Anxiously  they  scanned  th%  crowd 
twosticks,    and  even  Hilary,  taming  her  eyj  ange  faces  for  the  one  only  face  they  knew 


from  the  gray  sodden  looking  landscape  with 
out,  could  find  no  spot  of  comfort  to  re 
within  the4 carriage,   except  that  round  rosy 
face  of  Elizabeth  Hand's. 

Whether  it  was  from  the  spirit  of  contradic- 
tion'existing  in  most  such  natures,  which,  es- 
pecially in  youth,  are  more  strong  than  sweet, 
or  from  a  better  feeling,  the  fact  was  noticea- 
ble, that  when  every  one  else's  spirits  went 
down    Elizabeth's  went   up;    Nothing  could 

fit  so  sat 


in  the  great  metropolis — which  did  not  ap- 
pear. 

"  It  is  very  strange :  very  wrong  of  As- 
cott. Hilary,  you  surely  told  him  the  hour 
correctly.  For  ouce,  at  least,  he  might  have 
been  in  time  " 

So  chafed  Miss  Selina,  while  Elizabeth,  who 

by  some  miraculous  effort  of  intuitive  genius. 

ucceoded  in  collecting  the  luggage,  wa* 

now  engaged  in  defending- it  from  all  comers. 


bring  her  out  of  a  "grumpy 

torily  as  her  mistresses  falling  into  one.  When  esPecia11     porters,  and  making  of  nt  a  comfort- 

•Miss   Selina  now  began   to   fidget  hither  and 
thither,  each  tone  of  her  fretful  voice  seeming' 


able  seat  for  Miss  Leaf. 

"  Nay,  have  patience,  Selina.     We  will  gn  e 

-o  throng  her  eldest  ster's  every  nerve.  him  JU8t  live  minutes  more'  Hilary." 
till  even  Hilary  said,  impatiently,  "Oh,  Seli-  ^nd  Johanna  sat  down,  with  her  sweet, 
na,  can't  von  be  quiet?"  then  Elfzabeth  rose^alm,  long  suffering  face  turned  upward  to  that 
from  the  depth  of  her  gloomy  discontent  up  younger  one,  which  was.  as  youth  is  apt  to  be. 
to  the  surface  immediately.     '  '  hot-  and  worried,  and  angry.     And  so  thev 

She  was  ool/a  servant ;  but  Nature  bestows  'waited  till  the  terminus  was  almost  deserted, 
that  strange  vague  thing  that  we  term  "  iorcei^nd  the  last  cab  had  driven  off,  when,  sudden- 
of  character"  indepei  of  position.     Hil-j'y,  dashing  up  the  station  yard  out  of  another, 

ary  often   reraember<  how  muchicame  Ascott. 

more  comfci tab!  irney  was]     He  was  so  sorry,  so  very  sorry,  downright 

than  she  had  expected — how  Johanna  lay  at  grieved,  at  having  kept  his  aunts  waiting.  But 
ease,  with  her  feet  in  Elizabeth's  lap.  wrapped  his  watch  was  wrong— some  fellows  at  dinner 
in   Elizabeth's  b  vvJ  ;   and  bow,  detained  him — the  train  was  before  its  time 

when  Selina's  whole  attention  was  turned  toisurely.  In,  fact,'  his  aunts  never  quite  made 
an  ingenious  contrivance  with  a  towel  and  fork  out  what  the  excuse  was  ;  but  they  looked  into 
and  Elizabeth's  basket,  for  stopping  the  rain  his  bright  handsome  face,  and  their  wrath 
out  of  the  carria.  —she  became  far  less  melted  like. clouds  before  the  sun.     He  w. 

jreeable,  a/id   even   a  little  proud  of  her  gentlemanly,    so   well    dressed — much    better 

pwn  cleverness.     And  so  rnere  was  a  tempo-  dressed  than  even  at Stowbury — and  beseemed 

lull  in   Hilary's  cares,  and  she  could  sit  so  unfeignedly  glad  to  see  them.     He  handed 

;  quiet,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  rainy  land-  them  all  into  the  cab — even  Elizabeth,  though 

!  scape,  which  she  did  no-  'her  though-  ering  meanwhile   to  his  Aunt  Hilary, 

wandering   towfrd    that  unknown  place  and  "  What  on  earth  did  you  bring  her  tor  ?"  and 

unknown  life  into  which  they  were  sweeping,  then  was  just  going  to  leap  on  to  the  box  him- 

as  we  all  sweep,  ignorantly,  unresistingly,  al-'self,  when  hestopped  to  ask  ""Where  he  should 

most  unconsciously,  into  new  destinies.     Hil-  tell  cabby  to  drive  to?" 

jtry,  for  the  first  time,  began  to  doubt  o&  theirs.      ''Where  to?"  repeated  his  aunts  in  undis- 

Anxious  as  she  had  been  to  go  to  London,  andguised  astonishment.   They  had  never  thought 

wise  as  the  proceeding  appeared,  now  that  the  of  any  thing  but  of  being  taken  home  at  once 

die  was  cast  and  the  cable  cut,  the  old  simple,  by  their  boy.' 

peaceful  life  at  Stowbury  grew  strangely  .dear.      "  You  see,"  Ascott  said,  in  a  little  confusion, 
"  I  wonder  if  we  shall  ever  go  back  again,  or  ••  you  wouldn't  be  comfortable  with  me.     A 
what  is  to  happen  to  us  before  we  do  go  back,"  young  fellow's  lodgings  are  not  like  a  house  of 
she  thought,  and  turned,  with  a  half  defined, one's  own,  and,  besides — " 


36 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID, 


"  Besides,  when  a  young  fel!ow  is  ashamed  it :"  which  was  the  one  only  thing  she  conde- 
Of  his  old  aunt?,  lie  can  easily  find  reasons."    scended  to  approve  in  London.     She  had  sat 

"Hush,  Selina!"  interposed  Miss  Leaf,  all  evening  urate  in  her  corner,  for  Miss  Leaf 
"  My  dear  boy,  your  old  aunts  would  r.ever  let  would  not  send  her  away  into  the  terra  incog- 
you  inconvenience  yourself  for  them.  Take \nita  of  a  London  hotel."  Ascott,  at  first  con- 
us  to  an  inn  for  the  night,  and  to  morrow  wc  siderably  annoyed  at  the  presence  ol  what  he 
will  find  lodgings  for  ourselves."  called  a"  skeleton  at  the  feast."  had  afterward 

Ascott  looked  greatl  7  relieved.  •  got    over  it,    and  run   on   with"  a  mixture  ol 

"  And  you  are  not  vexed  with  me.  Aunt  childish  glee  and  mannish  pomposity  about 
Johanna  ?"  said  he,  with  something  of  hisohlhis  plans  and  intentions — how  he  meant  to 
childish  , tone  of  compunction,  as  he  saw — be  take  a  house,  he  thought,  in  one  of  the  squares, 
could  not  help;  seeing — the  utter  wearineBsjor  a  street  leading  out  of  them  ;  now  he  would 
which  Johanna  tried  so  hard  to  hide.  'put  up  the  biggest  of  brass  plates,  with  "Mr. 


"  No,  my  dear,  not  vexed.  Only  I  wish  we 
had  known  this  a  little  sooner  that  we  might 
have  made  arrangements.  Now,  where  shall 
we  go?"  ' 


Leaf,  surgeon,"  and  soon  gpt  an  extensive 
practice,  and  have  all  his  aunts- to  live,  wtth 
him.  And  his  aunts  had  smiled  and  listened, 
forgetting  all  about  the  silent  figure  in  the 


Ascott  mentioned  a  dozen  hotels,  but  they  corner,  who  perhaps  had  gorfe  to  sleep,  or  bad 
found  he  only  knew  them,  by  name.     At  last  also  listened. 

Miss  Leaf  remembered  one, which  her  father-  "Elizabeth,  come  and  look  6ut  at  Lon- 
used    to   go.  to,   on   his.  frequent  journeys  toldon." 

London,  and  whence,  indeed,  he  had  beenj  So  she  and  Miss  Hilary  whilcd  away  an- 
brought  home  to  die.  And  though  all  the  other  heavy  three  quarters  of  an  hour  in  watch- 
recollections  about  it  were  sad  enough,  still  it|ing  and  commenting  on  the  incessantly  shift- 
felt  less  strange  than  the  rest,  in  this  dieariness  irtg  crowd  which  swept  past  Ilolborn  Bars. 
of  London.  So  she  proposed  going  to  the  "Old  Miss  Selina  sometimes  looked  out  too.  but 
Bell,"  Ilolborn.  more  often  sat  fidgeting  and  wondering  why 

"  A  capital  place!"  exclaimed  Ascott,  ea  Ascott  did  not  come';  while  Miss  Leaf,  y.;ho 
gerly.  ."  And  I'll  take  and.  settle  yon  there -.never  fidgeted,, became  gradually  more  and 
and  we'll  order  supper,  and  make  a  jolly  night  j  more  silent.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  door; 
of  it.     AH  right.     Drive  on,  cabby."  with  an  expression  which, -if  Hilary  could  have 

He  jumped  on  the  box,  and  then  looked  in  remembered  so  far  back,  would  have  been  to 
mischievously,  flourishing  his  lit  cigar,  and  her  something  not  painfully  new.  but  still 
shaking  his  long  hair — his  Aunt  Selina'a  two  more  painfully  old — a  look  branded  into  her 
great  abominations — right  in  her  indignant  face  by  many  an  anxious  hour's  listening  for 
face  :  but  withal  looking  so  merry  and  good] the  footstep  that  never  came, or  only  came  to 
tempered  that  she  shortly  softened  into  a  bring  distress.  It  was  the  ineffaceable  token 
smile.  of  that  long,   long  struggle   between   affection 

"How  handsome  the  boy  is  growing!"         and  conscience,   pUy  and  scarcely  repressible 

"  Yes,"  said  Johanna,  with  «a  slight  sigh  contempt,  which]  for  more- than  one  genera- 
"  and  did  you  notice?"  how  exceedingly  like  1  ion,  had  been  the  appointed  burden  of  this 
his — "  imily — at  leas:  the  women  of  it — till  some- 

.The  sentence  was  left  unfinished.  Alas!  if  times  it  seetped  to  hang  over  them  almost  like 
every  young  man,  who  believes  his  faults  and  la  fate. 

follies  injure  himself  alone,  could  feel  what  it'  About  noon  Miss  Leaf  proposed  calling  for 
must  be,  years  afterward,  to  have  his  nearest  the  hotel  bill.  Its  length  so  alarmed  thecpun- 
kindred  shrink  from  saying,  as  the  saddest,  try  ladies  that  Hilary  suggested  not  staying  to 
most  ominous  thing  they  could  say  of  his  son.  dine,  but  going  immediately  in  search  of  lodg- 
that  the  lad  is  growing  "so  like  his  father!"     ings. 

It  might  have  been — they  assured  each  other  "  What,  without  a  gentleman  !  Impossible! 
that  it  was — only  the  incessant',  roll,  roll  of  I  always  understood  ladies  could  go  nowhere 
the  street  sounds  below- their  windows,  which  in  London  without  a  gentlemen  !" 
kept  the  Misses  Leaf  awake  half  the  night  of  "  We  shall  come  very  ill  4>iY  then,  Selina. 
this  their  first  night  in  London.  And  »>  hen  But  any  how  I  mean  to  try.  You  know  the 
they  sat  down  to  breakfast — having  waited  an  region  where,  we  have  heard,  lodgings  are 
hour  vainly  for  their  nephew — it  might  have  cheapest  and  best — that  is,  best  for  us..  It  can 
been  only  the  gloom  of  the  little  parlor  which  not  be  far  from  here.  Suppose  I  start  at 
cast  a  slight  shadow  over  them  all.  .Still  the  once?" 
shadow  was  there.  "What,  alone?"  cried  Johanna,  anxiously. 

It  deepened  despite  the  sunshiny  morning      "  No,  dear,  I'll  take  the  map  with  me,  and  " 
into  which  the  last  night's  rain  had  brightened,  Elizabeth.     She  is  not  afraid."' 
till  Hoi  horn  Bars  looked  cheerful,  and   Hoi-      Elizabeth  smiled,  and  rose,  with  that  air  of 
born  pavement  actually  clean,  so  that,  as  Eli-  dogged  de voted ness  with  which  she  would  have 
zabeth  said,  "you  might  eat  your  dinner  off  prepared  to  follow  Miss  Hilary  to  the  North 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


m 


Pole,  if  necsssarv.     So,  after  a  few  minutes  of|  "«  ^t  to  win,  *  feel  more  worthy  thee." 

arguing  with  Selina,  wlio  did  not  press  her  Such  thoughts  made  her  step  firmer  and 
point  overmuch,  since  she  hersell  had  nut  to  her  heart  lighter;  so  that  sh.e  hardly  noticed 
commit  t lie  impropriety  of  the  expedition,  the  distance  they  must  have  walked  till  the 
After  a  few  minutes  more  of  hopeless  lingering  olese  London  air  began  to  oppress  her,  and 
about--till  even  Miss,  Leal  said  they  had  b  t-|the  smooth  glaring  London  pavements  made 
ter  wait  no  Ionizer  — mistress  and  maid  took  slier  Stowbury  feet  ache  sorely. 
farewell  nearly  as  pathetic  *  if  they  had  been  "Are  you  tired,  Elizabeth?  Well,  we'll 
reallv  Arctic  voyagers,  and  plunged  right  into  rest  soon.  There  must  be  lodgings  near  here. 
thedusti   glare"  and   hurrying   crowd   of  the  Only  I  can't  quite  make  out-   ' 


sunny  side"  of  Uolborn  in  July. 
\  strange  sensation,  and  yet  there  was  some- 


As  Miss  Hilary  looked  up  to  the  name  of 
the  street  the  maid  noticed  what  a  glow  came 


thing  exhilarating  in  it.  The  intense  solitude  into  her  mistress's  face,  pale  and  tired  as  it 
that~there  is  in  a  London  crowd  the.6e  country  was.  Just  then  a  church  clock  struck  th<» 
gir]s — for  Miss  Hilary  herself  was  no  more! quarter  hour. 

than  a  girl— could  not  as  vet  realize.     They      "That  must  be  St.  Pancras.     And  this— 
onlv  felt  the  life  of  it:  stirring,  active,  inees-lyes,  this. is  Burton  Street,  Burton  Crescent." 
Bantly  moving  life;    even  though  it  was-of  a;     "I'm    sure  /Missis    wouldn't    like   to    live 
«rod  that  they  knew  as  little  of  it  as  the  crowd  there,"  observed   Elizabeth,  eyeing  uneasily 
did  of  them."    Nothing   struck    Hilary  more  the  gloomy  re:  dc-chaussee,  familiar to  many  a 


than  the  self  absorbed  look  of  passers-by  ; 
each  so  busy  on  his  own  affairs,  that,  in  spite 
Of  Selinas  Warm,  for  all  notice  taken  of  them, 
they  might  as  well  be  walking  among  the  cows 
and  horses  in  Stowbury  field. 


generation  of  struggling  respectability,  where, 
in  the  decadence  ot  the  season,  every  second 
house  bore  the  announcement  "apartments 
furnished." 

"  No,"  Miss  Hilary  replied,  absently.     Yet 


Poor  old  Stowbury  !  They  felt  how  far  she  continued  to  walk  up  and  down  the  whole 
away  they  were  from  it  when  a  ragged,  dirty,  length  of  the  6treet ;  then  passed  out  into  the 
vicious  looking  girl  offered,  them  a  mo-s  rose  dreary,  deserted  looking  Crescent,  where  the 
fcud  for  "one  pennv,  fltoly  one  penny  ;"  which  trees  were  already  beginning  to  fade:  not. 
ibeth,  lagging  behind,  bought,  and  found  however,  into  the  bright  autumn  tint  ot  coun- 
it  onlv  a  broken  off  bud  stuck  "on  to  a  bit  of  try  woods,  but  into  a  premature  withering, 
0f  wire.  u»'y  ar)d  sad  to  behold. 

"  That's  London  wavs,  T  suppose,"  said  she.  '-"lam  glad  he  is  not  here— glad,  glad!" 
severely,  and  became  so  misanthropic  that  she  thought  Hilary,  as  she  realized  the  unuttera- 
would  hardly  vouchsafe  a  glance  to  the  hand- ble  dreariness  of  those  years  when  Kobert 
some  square 'they  turned  into,  and  merely  ob  Lyon  lived  and  studied' in  his  garret  from 
served  of  the  tall  houses,  taller  than"  any 'month's  end  to  month's  end— these  few  dusty 
Hilary  had  ever  seen,  that  she  "  wouldn't, trees  being  the  sole  memento  of  the  green 
fenny  running  up  and  down  them  stairs."         country  life  in  which  he  had  been  brought  up. 

But  Hilary  was  cheerful  in  spiteof  all.  She  and  which  she  knew  he  so  passionately  loved, 
was  gladto  be  in  this  region,  which*  theoretic-  Now  she  could  understand  that  "calenture" 
kUy,  she  knew  by  heart— glad  to  find  herself  which  he  had  sometimes  jestingly  alluded  to. 
pj  the*  body,  where  in  the  spirit  she  had  come  as  coming  upon  htm  at  times,  when  he  felt 
so  many  a  time.  The  mere  consciousness  of  literally  sick  for  the  sight  of  a  green  field  or  a. 
this  seemed  to  refresh  her.  She  thought  she  hedge  full  of  birds.  She  wondered  whether 
would  be  much  happier.in  London  :  that  in  the  same  feeling  would  ever  come  upon  her  in 
the  long  vears  to  come  that  must  be  borne,  it  this  strange  desert  of  London,  the  vastness  of 
would  bYgood  for  her  tohavesomethingtodo  which  grew  upon  her  every  hour, 
as  well  as  to  hope  for;  something  to  fight:  She  was  glad  he  was  away  ;  yes,  heart  glad  ! 
with  as  well  as  to  endure,  Now  more  than,  And  yet,  if  this  minute  she  could  only  have* 
ever  came  pulsing  in  and  out  of  her  memory  seen  him  coming  round  the  Crescent,  have 
a  line  once  repeated  in  her  bearing,  with  an  met  his  smile,  and  the  firm,  warm  clasp  of 
observation  of  how  "true"  it  was.    And  though  his  hand — 

originally  it  was  applied  by  a  man  to  a  woman,  For  an  instant  there  rose  up  in  her  one  of 
and  she  smiled  sometimes  to  think  how  "un- those  wild,  rebellious  outcries  against  fate 
feminine"  some  people— Selina  for  instance—  j  when  to  have  to  waste  years  of  this  brief  life 
would  consider  her  turning  it  the  other  way.  of  ours,  in  the  sort  of  semi-existence  that  living 
still  she  did  so.  She  believed  that,  for  woman  is,  apart  from  the  treasure  of  the  heart  and 
as  for  man.  that  is  the  purest  and  noblest  love  delight  of  the  eyes,  seems  so  cruellv,  cruelly 
which  is  the  most  self  existent,  most  indepen-  hard! 
pendent  of  love  returned  ;  and  which  can  say.      "Miss  Hilary." 

each  to  the  other  equally  on  both  sides,  that;     She  started,  and  "  put  herselfunder  lock  and 
the  whole  solemn  purpose  of  life  is,  underjkey"  immediately. 
God's  service,  •'  I     "  Mies  Hilary ;  you  do  look  so  tired  !"\ 


38 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID, 


"Do  I?    Then  we  will  go  and  sit  down  in  we  will  find  out  Mr.  Ascott's  number,  and 
this  baker's  shop,  and  get  rested  and  fed.    We  inquire." 

cannot  afford  to.wear  Ourselves  out,  you  know.      No,  there   was  no   mistake.     Mr.    Aecott 
We  have  a  great  deal  to  do  to-day."  Leaf  had  lodged  there  for  three  months,  but 

More  indeed  than  she  calculated,  for  they  had  -riven  up  hi?  rooms  that  very  mornin 
walked  up  one  street  and  down  another,  inve--      "  Where  had  he  gone  to?"      • 

ing  at  least  twenty  lodgings  before  any  The  servant— a  London  lodging  house  serv- 
appeared  which  seemed  fit  for  them.  Ye tj ant  all  over — didn't  know  ;  but  she  fetched  (be- 
some  place  must  be  found  where  Johanna '.-  landlady,  who  was  after  the  same  pattern  of  the 
poor,  tired  headcould  rest  that  night.  AtlastJdozen  London  landladies  with  whom  Hilary 
completely  exhausted,  with  that  Opprsssivelhad  that  day  made  acquaintance,  only  a  little 
exhaustion  which  seems  tocrush  mind  as  welljmore  Cockney,  smirking,  dirty,  and  tawdrily 
as  body  after  a   day's  wandering  in  London  /fine. 

Hilary's  courage  began  to  ebb.  Ohforanarm  "Yes,  Mr.  Leaf  had  gone,  and  he  hadn't 
to  lean  on.  a  voice  to  listen  for,  a  brave  heart  leit  no  addre&s.  Young  College  gentlemen 
io  come  to  her  side,  saying,  "  Do  not  be  afraid.,  often  found  it  convenient  to  leave  no  address. 
there  are  two  ol  us  !"  And  she  yearned,  with !  P'raps  he  would  if  he'd  known  there  would  be 
an  absolutely  sick  yearning  %uch  as.  only  a  a  young  lady  acalling  to  see  him." 
woman  who  now  anil  then  feels  the  utter  help  "  I  am  Mr.  Leaf's  aunt,"  said  Hilary,  tu'rn- 
lessness  of  her  womanhood  can  know,  for  the  ing  as  hot  as  fire. 


witl 


I  ctvu 


"Oh,  in-deed."  was  the  answer, 
incredulousness. 

But  the  woman  was  sharp  of  perception— as 
often-cheated   London  landladies  learn  to  be. 
After  looking  keenly  at  mistress  and  maid,  slit 
changed  her  tone:  nay.  even  launched  out  u> 
mdofhei  praises  of  her  late  lodger :  what  a  pleasant 

Id  forgive  him  .'gentleman   he  was:  what  good  company  he 
'cept.  and  how  be  hod  promise  i 


vienu 


only  arm  she  cared  to  lean  on.  the  only  voice 
dear  enough  to  bring  Iter  comfort,  the  only 
heart  that  she- felt  sbe  could  trust. 

Poor  Hilary  !     And  yet  why  pity  her  ?     To 
her  three  alternatives  could  but  happen  :  were 
Robert  Lyon  true  to  her  she  would  be  his 
entirely  and  devotedly,  to  the  e 
did  he  forsake  her.  she   wou 
should  he  die,  she  would  be  faithful  to  him 

eternally.     Love  of  this  kind  may  know  an-  her  apartments  .to  his  friends, 
guish.  but  not  the  sort  of  anguish  that  :  or  the  little  some'at  of  rem,  Mi-- 

and -weaker  loves  do.     If  it  is  certain  of  no-. — tell  him  it  makes  no  matter,  he  can  pay  me 
thing  can  always  be  certain  of  itself.     I when  he  Jikee.     If  he  don't  call  soon,  p'raps 

1  might  m     .  I  to  send  his  trunji  and  ln^ 

books  over  to!     .       ;ott*s  of—  dear  me,  I  for- 
number  and  the  equar 

And  even  in  its  utmost  pangs  is  an  nnder-       Hilary  uhsuspiciouely  supplied  both, 
lying  which  often       iproacb  — the  old  gen'leman  as  Mr. 

lute  joy.  line  with  every  other  Snnda  r.  a 

Hilary  roused  herself,   and  Lent  her  mini  .eh  old  gentleman,  who.  he  say.-..  : 

lily  on  lodgings   till   she  discovered  oh«  him  ail  his  money.     Maybe  a  relation  of 

from  the  parlor  ©J  which  yon  coul  :  i    yours,  Miss?" 

trees  of  Burton  Crescent  and  hear  tlu  >raethinp 

Saint  Pancras'B  clock.  >ut  the  ring  frbm  Mr.   i 

"  I  think  we  may  do   here — at  least  for  a  ver  -he  hurried 

while."  -aid  she  cheerfully;  and  then   ICii  -  e 

hc-th  heard  her  inquiring  if  an  extra  bedroom      "Won't  you  be  tired  if  you 

ild  he  hi  ry. 

There  was  only  one  small  attic.  "Ascot*  HilaJry  stopped,  choking.  Helplessly  she 
tiever  could  put  up  with  that,'- said  Hilary,  looked  un  and  down  the  forlorn,  wide,  glaring, 
half  to  herself.     Then  suddenly — "I  think   I  dush  -  nking  into  the  dull  sli 

will  see  Ascott   before   1    decide.     Elizabeth, |ol  a  London  afternoon, 
will  you  go  with  me.  or  remain  here  '.'"  "  Let  us  go  home  V'     And  at  the  word  a  sob 

"I'll  go  with  you,  if  you  please,  Miss  Hil-  hurst  out— just  one  passionate  pent  up  Bob. 
arv.''  °   more.      She   could    not   afford    to  waste 

"If  you  please,"  so  not  unlike,  "if  .  th  in  cry" 

please."  and  Elizabeth   had  gloomed  over  eth,  I  am  getting tireil : 

little.     " Is  Mr.  Ascott  to  live  with  u-  1  that  will  not  do.     Let  me  hing 

"  I  suppose  60."  must'  And  she  stood  still,  p 

Xo  more  words  were  into  '<  till  thej  ing  her  hand  over  her  hot  brow  and  ey<  -.    "  i 

reached  Grower  street,  when  Miss    Hilary  oh-  will  g  md  take  the  lodgings,  leave  voi 


ot'  the  .  Kli/- 

wa'k  so  fast. 


served,  with  evident  surprise,  what  a  hand- 
some street  it  was 


there  to  make  all  comfortable,  and  then  fetch 
my  Bisters  from  the  hotel.     But  stay  first,  I 


"I  must  have  made  some  mistake,    StilVhave  forgotten  eoniethisg.'' 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


39 


She  returned  to  the  house  in  Gower  Street, jpulsive  as  they  are.  Unless,  indeed,  their 
and  wrote  on  one  of  her  card.-;  an  address — tbejtalent  for  incessant  locomotion  degenerates 
only  permanent  address  she  could  think  of — into  rootless  restlessness,  and  they  remain  for- 
that  of  the  city  broker  i%o  was  in  the  habit  oflever  rolling  stones,  gathering  no  moss,  and 
paying  them  their  yearly  -income  oi  £o0.  quiring  gradually  a  smooth;  hard  surface. 

"If  amy  creditors  inquire  for  Mr.  Leaf,  give! Which  adheres  to  nothing,  and  to  whicR  no- 
them  this.     His  friends  may  always  hear  of  body  dare#venture  to  adhere. 


him  at  the  Londen  University. 


But  there  are  others  possessing  in  a  painful 


"Thank  you,  ma'am,"  replied  the  now  civil  degree^  this  said  quality  of  adhesiveness,  to 
landlady.  "Indeed,  1  wasn't  afraid  of  the  wb,6m  the  smallest  change  is  obnoxious  ;  who 
young  gentleman  giving  us"  the  slip.  For  like  drinking  out  of  a  particular  ciip,  and  sit- 
though  he  was  careless  in  his  bills  he  was  ting  in  a  particular  chair;  to  whom  even  a 
every  inch  the  gentleman.  And  I  wouldn't/ variation  in  the  position  of  furniture  is  un- 
object  to  take  him  in  again.  Or  p'raps  you  pleasant.  Of  course,  this  peculiarity  has  its 
yourself,  ma'am,  might  be  a-wanting rooms."  bad  side,  and  yet  it  is  not  in  itself  mean  or 

"No,  1  thank  you.  Good  morning."  And  (ignoble.  For  is  not  adhesiveness,  faithfulness, 
Hilary  hurried  away.  [constancy— call  it  what  you  will — at  the  root 

Not  a  word  did  she  say  to  Elizabeth,  or  EH-  of  all  citizenship,  clanship,  and  family  love  ? 


zabeth  to  her,  till  they  got  into  the  dull,  dingy 
parlor — henceforth,  to  be  their  sole  apology 
tor  "home:"  and  then  she  only  talked  about 


Is  it  not  the  same  feeling  which,  granting  they 
remain  at  all,  makes  old  friendships  dearer 
than  any  new  ?     Nay,  to  go  to  the  very  sacred-** 


domestic  arrangements — talked    fast  and  ea-  est  and  closest  bond,  is  it  not  that  which  makes 


gerly,  and  tried  to  escape  the  affectionate  eyes 
which  she  knew  were  so  sharp  and  keen. 
Only  to  escape  them — not  to  blind  them  ;  she 
had  long  ago  found  out  that  Elizabeth  was  too 


an  old  man  see  to  the  last  in  his  old  wife's 
faded  face 'the  beauty  which  perhaps  nobody 
ever  saw  except  himself,   but   which  he  se< 
and  delights  in  still,   simply  because  it   isjja-il 


quick-witted  tor  that,  especially  in  any  thing  miliar  and  liia  own. 
that  concerned  "the  family."  She  felt  con-!  To  people  who  possess  a  large  share  of  this 
vinced  the  girl  had  heard  every  syllable  that  rare — shall  1  say  fatal? — characteristic  of  ad- 
passed  at  A-cott's  lodgings  :  that  she  knew  allihesiveness,  living  in  lotlgmgs  is  about  the  sad- 
that  was  to  be  known,  and  guessed  what  wasidest  life  under  the  sun.  Whether  some  dim 
to  be  feared  as  well  as  Hilary  herself.  '  jforebodingot  this  fact  crossed  Elizabeth's  mind 

•'  Elizabeth  "-^she  hesitated  long,  and  doubt-  as  she  stood  at  the  window  watching  for  her 
ed  whether  she  should  say  the  thing  before! mistresses'  first  arrival  at  "home."  it  is  im- 
she  did  say  it — "  remember  we  are  all  stiang- possible  to  say.  She  could  feel,  though  she 
|rs  in  London,  and  family  matters  are  best: was  not  accustomed  to  analyze  her  feelings, 
kept  within  the  family.  Do  not  mention  But  she  looked  dull  and  sad.  Not  cross,  even 
either  in  writing  home,  or  to  any  body  here.'Ascott  could  not  have  accused  her  of  "sav- 
about — about — "  [ageness  " 

She  could  not  name  Ascott :  she  feltsohor- 
riblv  ashamed. 


CHAPTER  X. 


i 
f 

And  yet  she  bad  been  somewhat  tried.  First, 
, in  going  out  what  she  termed  " marketing," 
she  had  traversed  a  waste  of  streets,  got  lost 
several  times,  and  returned  with  light  weight 
in  her  butter,  and  sand  in  her  moist  sugar; 
also  with  the  conviction  'that  London  trades- 
men were  the  greatest  rogues  alive  Second- 
ly, a  pottle  of  strawberries,  which  she  had 


Living  in  lodgings,    not  temporarily,    but 

lanently,  sitting  down  to  make  one's  only  bought  with  her  own  money  to  grace  the  tea 
"home"  in  Mrs.  Jones's  parlor  or  Mrs.  Smith's  table  with  the  only  fruit  Miss  Leaf  cared  for, 
fir.-t  floor,  of  which  not  a  stick  or  a  stone  thai  had  turned  out  a  largo  delusion,  big  and  beau- 
own,  and  whenceon  at  top,  and  all  below  small,  crushed,  and 
be  evicjted  or  evade,  with  a  week's  notice  or  ajstale.  She  had  thrown  it  indignantly,  pottle 
week's  rent,  any  day — this  sort  of  life  .is  natu  and  all,  into  the  kitchen  fire, 
ral  and  even  delightful  t$ some  people.  There  Thirdly;  sii  war  with  the  landlady. 
ire  those  who,  like  strawberry  plan  irtly  on  >;'  their  file — which,  with 
such  an  errant  disposition,  that  grow  them  her  Stow  bury  Bbtipns  on  the  subject  of  coals, 
wln-re  you  will,  they  will  soon  absorb  all  the  seemed  wretchedly  mean  amis  mall— and part- 
pleasantht-s  of  their  habitat,  and  begin  casting  ly  on  the  question  of  table  cloths  at  tea,  which 
out  runners  elsewhere;  nay,  if  not  frequently  Mrs.  Jon  "  never  heard  of,"  especially 
transplanted,  would  actually  wither  and  die.lvi                      of  plate  and  lin  included 

;ch  are  the  pioneers  of  society — the  emi-lin  the  rent.  And  the.dinginess of  the  article 
grants,  the  tourists,  the  travelers  round  thej produced  at  last  (»ut'of  a*  omnium-gatherum 
world:  and  great  is  the  advantage  the  world  sort  of  kitchen  cupboard,  made  an  ominous 
derive*  from  them,  active,  energetic,  and  im-  impression  upon  the  country  girl,  accustomed 


40 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


to  clean,  tidy,  country  ways — where  the  kitch- 
en was  kept  as  neat  as  the  parlor,  and  the 
bedrooms  were  not  a  whit  behind  the  sitting 
rooms  in  comfort  and  orderliness.  Here  it 
seemed  as  if.  supposing  people  could  show  a 
lew  respectable  living  rooms,  they  were  content 
to  sleep  any  There,  and  cook  any  how,  out  of; 
any  thing,  in  the  midst  of  any  quantity  of  con-; 
fusion  and  dirt.  Elizabeth  set  all  this  down 
as  "London,"  and  hated  it  accordingly. 

She  had  tried  to  ease  her  mind  by  arranging 
and  rearranging  the  furniture — regular  lodg^ 
ing  house  furniture — table,  six  chairs,  horse- 
hair sofa,  a  what-not,  and  the  cbiffonnier,  with 
a  tea-caddy  upon  it,  of  which  the  respective 
keys  had  been  solemnly  presented  to  Miss 
Hilary.  But  still  the  parlor  looked  homeless 
and  bare ;  and  the  yellowish  paper  on  the 
walls,  the  large  patterned,  many  colored  Kid- 
derminster on  the  floor,  gave  an  involuntary 
^ense  of  discomfort  and  dreariness.  Besides, 
No.  15  was  on  the  shady  side  of  the  street — 
cheap  lodgings  always  are;  and  no  one  who 
ias  not  lived  in  the  like  lodgings — not  a  house; 
— can  imagine  what  it  is  to  inhabit  perpetu-j 
ally  one  room  where  the  sunshine  just  peeps 
in  for  an  hour  a  day,  and  vanishes  by  eleven  a.  | 
M.  :  leaving  behind  in  winter  a  chill  dampness, 
and  in  summer  a  heavy,^usty  atmosphere,  that' 
weighs  like  lead  on  the  spirits  in  spite  of  one's 
self.  No  wonder  that,  as  is  statistically  known 
and  proved,  cholera  stalks,  fever  rages,  and; 
the  registrar's  list  is  always  swelled  along  the 
shady  side  of  a  London  street. 

Elizabeth  felt  this,  though   she  had  not  the! 
dimmest  idea  why.     She  stood  watching  the; 
sunset  light  fade  out  of  the  topmost  windows  o('i 
the  opposite  house  —ghostly  reflection  of  some 
sunset  over  fields  and  trees  far  away  ;  and  she 
listenedjo  the  long  monotonous  cry  melting 
away  rWhid  the  cres.cent,  and  beginning  again 
at  the  other  end  of  the  street — "Straw-berries! 
— stravv'-ber-ries  I"     Also,  with  an  eye  to  to- 
morrow's Sunday  dinner,  she  investigated  the 
cart  of  the  tired  costermonger,  who  crawled; 
along  beside  his  equally  tired  donkey,  reitera- 
ting at  tunes,    in   tones  hoarse   with  a  day's 
bawling,  his  dreary  "  Cauli-flower !  Cauli-flow- 
er ! — Fine  new  pease,  sixpence  peck!" 

But,  alas!  the  pease  were  neither  fine  nor 
new;  and  the  cauliflowers  were  regular  Satur- 
day night's  cauliflowers.     Besides,   Elizabeth 


suddenly  doubted  whether  she  had  any  right.. 
unordered,  to  buy  these  things  which,  from  be 
ing  common  garden  necessari^p,  had  become 
luxuries.     This    thought,    witn    some    others 
that  it  occasioned,  her  unwonted  state  of  idle 
iCSS   and  the  dull:  veiy  thing  about  her 

— what  is  so  dull  as  a  "quiet"  London  - 
on  a  summer  evening? — actually  made  Kiiza-i 
tieth  stand,  motionless   and  meditative,  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour. 

Then  she  started  to  hear  two  cabs  drive  up 


to  the  door;  the  "family"  had  at  length  ar- 
rived. 

Ascott  was  there  too.  Two  new  portman- 
teaus and  a  splendid  hat-box  cast  either  igno- 
miny or  glory  upon  the  poor  Stowbury  luggage  ; 
and — Elizabeth's  sharp  eye  noticed — there 
was  also  his  trunk  which  she  had  seen  lying 
detained  for  rent  in  his  Gower  Street  lodgings. 
But  he  looked  quite  easy  and  comfortable  ; 
handed  out  his  Aunt  Johanna,  commanded 
the  luggage  about,  and  paid  the  cabmen  with 
such  a  magnificent  air.  that  they  to  ached  their 
bats  to  him,  and  winked  at  one  another  as 
much  as  to  say,    "  That's  a  real  gentleman  !" 

In  which  statement  "the  landlady  evidently 
coincided,  and  courtesied  low  when  Miss  "Leaf 
introducing  him  as  "  my  nephew,"  hoped  that 
a  room  could  be  found  for  him.  Which  at 
last  there  was,  by  his  appropriating  Miss-. 
Leaf's,  while  she  and  Hilary  took  that  at  the 
top  of  the  house.  But  they  agreed,  Ascott 
must  have  a  good  airy  room  to  study  in. 

"  You  know,  my  dear  boy."  said  his  Aunt 
Johanna  to  him — and  at  her  tender  tone  he 
looked  a  little  downcast,  as  when  he  was  a 
small  fellow  anddiad  been  forgiven  something 
— "  You  know-  you  will  have  to  work  very 
hard." 

'"All  right,  aunt!  I'm  your  man  for  that ! 
This  will  be  a  jolly  room  :  and  I  can  smoke 
up  the  chimney  capitally  !" 

So  they  came  down  etaifs  quite  cheerfully, 
and  Ascott  applied  himself  with  the  best  of 
appetites  to  what  he  called  a  "  hungry''  tea. 
True,  the  ham,  which  Elizabeth  had  to  fetch 
from  an  eating  house  some  streets  oil",  cost 
two  shillings  a  pound,  and  the  e?gs,  which 
caused  her  another  war  below  over  the  relight- 
ing of  a  fire  to  boil  them,  were  dismissed* by 
the  young  gentleman  as  "  horrid  stale."  Still, 
woman-like,  when  there  is  a  man  in  the  ques- 
tion, his  aunts  let  him  have  his  way.  It 
seemed  as  if  they  had  resolved  to  try  their  ut 
most  to  make  the  new  home  to  which  became, 
or  rather  was  driven,  a  pleasant  home,  and  to 
bind  him  to  it  with  cords  of  love,  the  only 
cords  worth  any  thing,  though  sometimes — 
Heaved  knows  why — even  they  fail,  and  are 
snapped  and  thrown  aside  like  straws. 

Whenever  Elizabeth  went  in  and  out  of  the 

parlor  she  always  heard  lively  talk  goil 

among  the  family  :  Ascott  making  his.  joras, 

telling  about  his  college  life,  and  planning  his 

come,  a-  a  surgeon  in  full  practice,  on 

the    most  scale.      And     when      he 

brought  in  the  chamber  candles,  sin   saw  him 

his  aunts  affectionately,  and  even  hel| 

\ut.t    Johanna — who   looked  frigbtfnllj 

pale  ana*  tired,  but  smiling  still— to  her  bee 

room  door. 

"You'll    not    sit   up    long.   m\    fle&r!      V 
reading  t6-night?"  said  she.  anxiously. 

••  Not  a  bit  of  it.  And  III  be  up  with 
the  lark  to-morrow  Tnorning.     \  really  will, 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


41 


auntie.     I'm  going  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf, 
yon  know." 

She  smiled  ag'iin  at  tlie  immemorial  joke, 
kissed  and  blessed  him,  and  the  door  shut  up- 
on her  and  Hilary. 

Ascott  descended  to  the  parlor,  threw  him- 
self on  the  sofa  with  an  air  of  great  relief,  and 
an  exclamation  of  satisfaction  that  "the  wo- 
men" were  all  gone.  He  did  not  perceive 
Elizabeth,  who,  hidden  behind,  was  kneeling 
to  arrange  something  in  the  chiffonnier,  till 
she  rose  up  ami  proceeded  to  fasten  the  parlor 
shuttero. 

"Hollo!  are  you  there?  Come,  I'll  do  that 
when  I  go  to  bed.  Yon  raav  'slope'  if  von 
like." 

"  Eh,  Sir." 

"Slope,  mizzle,  cut  your  stick:  don't  you 
understand.  Any  how,  don't  slop  here,  both- 
ering me." 

"I  don't  mean  to,"  replied  Elizabeth:  grave- 
ly, rather  than  gruffly,  as  if  she  had  made  up 
her  mind  to  things  as  they  were,  and  was  de 
term i tied  to  be  a  belligerent  party  no  longer. 
Besides,  she  was  older  now  ;  too  old  to  have 
things  forgiven  toherthat  might  be  overlooked 
in  a  child  ;  and  she  had  received  a  long  lecture 
from  Miss  Hilary  on  the  necessity  of  showing 
respect  to  Mr.  Ascott,  or  Mr.  Leaf,  as  it  was 
now  decided  he  was  to  be  called,  in  his  digni 
ty  and  responsibility  a3  the  only  masculine 
head  of  the  family. 

As  he  lay  and  lounged  there,  with  his  eyes 
lazily  shut,  Elizabeth   stood  a  minute  gazing 
at  him.     Then,  steadfast  in  her  new  good  be 
havior,  she  inquired  "if  he  wanted  any  thing 
more  to-night?" 

"Confound  you!   no!     Yes;  stop."     And 
the  young  man  took  a  furtive  investigation  o; 
the  plain,  honest  face,  and  not  over  graceful 
ultra-provincial  figure,  which  still  character- 
ized his  aunt's  "  South  Sea  Islander." 

"  I  say,  Elizabeth,  I  want  you  to  do  some 
thing  for  me."  He  spoke  so  civilly,  almost 
coaxingly.  that  Elizabeth  turned  round  sur- 
prised. "  Would  you  just  go  and  ask  the 
landlady  if  she  has  got  such  thing  as  a  latch- 
kev?" 

"A  what,  Sir?" 

"A  latch-key — a — oh,  she  knows.  Every 
London  house  has  it.  Tell  her  I'll  take  care 
of  it,  and  lock  the  front  door  all  right.  She 
needn't  be  afraid  of  thieves." 

"  Very  well,  Sir." 

Elizabeth  went, 
the  information  that  Mr.?.  Jones  had  gone  to 
bed;  in  the' kitchen,  she  supposed,    as   she 
could  not  get  in.     But  she  laid  on  the   tab.J 
the  large  street  door  key. 

"  Perhaps  that's  what  you  wanted.  Mr.  Leaf 
Though  1  think  you  needn't  be  the  least  afraid 
of  robbers,  for  there's  tkree  bolts,  and  a  c 
besides." 

"  All  right !"  cried  Ascott,  smothering  dow.i 


a  laugh.     "Thank  you!     That's   for  you," 
throwing  a  half-crown  across  the  table.  " 

Elizabeth  took  it  up  demurely,  and  put  it 
down  again.  Perhaps  she  did  not  like  him 
enough  to  receive  presents ftom  him  ;  perhaps 
she  thought,  being  an  honest  minded  girl,  that 
a  young  man  who  could  not  pay  his  rent  had 
no  business  to  bd  giving  away  half-crowns; 
or  else  she  herself  had  not  been  so  much  as 
many  servants  are.  in  the  habit  of  taking  them. 
For  Mis«  Hilary  hid  put  into  Elizabeth  some 
of  her  own  feeling  as  to  this  habit,  of  paying 
an  inferior  with  money  for  any  little  civility  or 
kindness  which,  from  an  equal,  would  be  ac- 
cepted simply  as  kindness,  and  only  requited 
with  thanks,  Any  how,  the  coin  remained  on 
ihe  table,  and  the  door  was  just  shutting  upon 
Elizabeth,  when  the  young  gentleman  turned 
round  again. 

"  I  say,  since  my  aunts  are  so  horridly  timid 
of  robbers  and  such  like,  you'd  belter  not  tell 
them  any  thing  about  the  latch-key." 

Elizabeth  stood  a  minute  perplexed,  and 
then  replied  briefly:  "Miss  Hilary  isn't  a  bit 
timid  ;  and  I  always  tells  Miss  Hilary  every- 
thing. " 

Nevertheless,  though  she  was  so  ignorant 
as  never  to  have  heard  of  a  latch- key,  she  had 
the  wit  to  see  that  all  was  not  right.  She  even 
lay  awake,  in  her  closet  oil  Miss  Leaf's  room, 
whence  she  could  hear  the  murmur  of  her  two 
mistresses  talking  together,  long  after  they  re- 
tired— lay  broad  awake  for  an  hour  or  more, 
trying  to  put  things  together— the  sad  things 
that  she  frit  certain  must  have  happened  that 
day,  and  wondering  what  Mr.  Ascott  could 
possibly  want  with  the  key.  Also,  why  he 
;iad  asked  her  about  it,  instead  of  telling  his 
Hints  at  once  :  and  why  he  had  treated  her  in. 
the  matter  with  such  astonishing  civility. 

It  may  be  said  a  servant  had  no  busiuessto 
think  about  these  things,  to  criticize  heryoung 
master's  proceedings,  or  wonder  why  her  mis- 
tresses were  sad:  that  she  had  only  to  go 
about  her  work  like  an  automaton,  and  take 
no  interest  in  any  thing.  I  can  only  answer 
*o  those  who  like  such  service,  let  them  have 
it:  and  as  they  sow  they  will  assuredly  reap. 

But  long  after  Elizabeth,  young  ami  hearty, 
was  soundly  snoring  on  her  hard,  cramped 
bed,  Johanna  and  Hilary  Leaf,  after  a  brief 
mutual  pretence  of  sleep,  soon  discovered  by 
both,  lay  consulting  toge'her  over  ways  and 
means.  How  could  the  family  expenses,  be- 
ginning with  twenty-five  shillings  per  vveekas 
rent,  possibly  be  met  by  the  only  actual  cer- 
tain family  income,  their  £50  per  annum  from 
a  mortgage  ?  For  the  Misses  Leaf  were  or 
that  old-fashioned  stamp  which  believed  that 
to  reckon  an  income  by  mere  probabilities  is 
insanity  or  dishonesty. 
nmon  arithmetic  soon  proved  that  this 
■ild  not  maintain  them  ;  in  fact 
they  must  soon  draw  on  the  little  sum— al- 


42 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


ready  dipped  into  to-day,  for  Ascott— which  thought  smote  her  painfully  thatmany  ayoung 
had  been  produced  by  the  sale  of  the  Stowbur  of  his  age  stay  and  bread  win- 

furniture.     That    sal  now    found  had  nor  of  some   widowed  mother  or  sister,  nay. 

been  a  mistake  ;  and  they  half  feared  whether  even  ■  and  child,  sti  heer- 

the  whole  change  from  Stowbury  to  London  fully,  "  What  can  one  expect  from  him?  He 
had  not  been  a  mistake— one. of  the-  only  a 

rors  in  judgment  which  we  all  commit  some-  God  help  the  women  w  ho,  lor  those  belong- 
times,  and  have  io  abide  by,  and  make  the  ing  to  them  -husbands,  fathers,  brothers,  lov- 
best  of.  and   learn  from  it  "we  can.     H  >ns— have  ever 

those  who  i;  Dinna  erect  ower  spilt  milk'— a      When  they  came  in  sight  of  St.  Pan« 
proverb  wise  ascheerful,  which  Hilary, know-  Church,  Ascott  e  1  think. 


me  well  who  it  came  from, repeated  to  Johan- 
na to  comfort  her — taachea  a  second  brave 
lesson,  how  to  avoid  spilling  the  milk  a  second 
time. 

And  then  they  consulted  anxiously  about 
what  was  to  be  done  to  earn  money. 

Teaching  presented   itself  as*  the  o 


know  vour  way  now.  Aunt  Ilii; 
inly."   V 
"  Because— you  wouldn't  be  vexed  ii   1  left 


you?     I  hive 


an  encasement 


some  fellows 


that  I  dine  with,  out  at  Hampstead,  or  Rich- 
mond, or  Bla  very  Sunday.     Nothing 
,d,   I  assure   you.     And   you  know  it's 


source.     In    those   days   women's    work  1/for   one's   health  to  get  a  Sunday  in 

women's  rights  had  not  been  discussed  so  I  i     h  air." 

"  Yes  ;  but  Aunt  Johanna  will  be  sorry  to 


ly  as  at  present:     There  was  a  strong  feeli 
that  the  principal  thing  required  was  our  du-  miss  you." 
ties— owed  to  ourselves,  our  home,  our  fon.. 
and  friends.     There  wa*  a  deep  conviction— 
now,  alas  1  slowly  disappearing — that  a  wo- 
man, single  or  married,  should  never  throw 
herself  out  of  the  safe  circle  of  domestic  life 
till  the  last  extremity  of  necessity  ;  that  it  is 
wiser  to  keep  or  helpto  keep  a  home,  by  learn- 
ing how  to  expend  its  income,  cook  its  dinners, 
make  and  mend  its  clothes,  and,  by   the  law 
that  "  prevention  is  better  than-  cure,"  study- 
ing all  those  preservative  means  of  holding  al 


ill  she?     Oh,  you'll  smooth  her  down. 
Stay  !   -Tell  her  I  shall  be  back  to  tea." 

"  We  shall  be  having  tea  directly." 

'•  I declare  I  had  quite  forgotten.  Aunt  Hil- 
ary, you  must,  change  your  hours.  They 
don't  suit  me  at  all.  No  men  can  ever  stand 
early  dinners.  '  By,  by  !  You  are  the  very 
prettiest  auntie.  Be  sure  you  get  home 
Hollo,  there  !     That's  my  omnibus."' 

He  jumped  on  the  top  of  it,  and  was  oil'. 

Aunt  Hilary  stood  quite   confounded,  and 


-that  there  was  any  actual  badness 
broken,  unsexed  :  turned  into  be-in  his  bright  and  handsome  young  facet    Still 


fa'uiilv  together-  as  women,  and  women  al  ith  one  of  those  strange  sinkings  of  the  heart 

can— than  to  dash  into  men's  sphere  of. trades!  which  had  come  over  her  several  times  this 
and   professions,  thereby,  in  most  instances,  day.     It  was  not  that  showed  any  un- 

fighting  an  unequal  battle,  and  coming  out  of  kindness- 
it  maimed,  broken,  unsexed  :  turned  into  be-in  his  bri&. 

im's  that  are  neither  men   nor  women,  with  [there  was  a  want  there— want  of  earnestn 
the  faultsand  corresponding  sufferings  of  both, steadltistness,  truthfulness,  a  something  more 
and  the  compensations  of  neither.  scoverable  as  the  lack  of  something  else  than 

"Idon't  see,"  said  poor  Hilary,  "what  I  as   aught    in    itself  tangibly  and  perceptibly 
can  do  but  teach.     And  oh,  if  1  could  on  ■  rong.     It  made  her  sad  :  it  caused  her  to  look 

daily  pupils  so  that  I  might  cgnfe  home  oi  forward  to  his  future  with  an  anxious  heart. 
nights  and  creep  into  the  fireside;  and  have  It  was  so  different  from  the  kind  of  anxiety, 
time  to  mend  the  stockings  and  look  after  As-  and  yet  settled  repose;  with  which  she  thought 
cott'a  linen  that  he  need  not  be  so  nwfullv  ex-  oi  the  only  other  man  in  whose  future  she  felt 
travagaut."  th«  smallest  interest.     Of  Robert    Lyon,  she 

°'     '  ..s  certain  that   whatever  misfortune  visited 

him  he  would  bear  it  in  the  best  way   it  could 

be  borne  ;  whatever  temptation  assailed  him 

he  would  fight  against  it  as  a  brave  and  good 
ristian  should  figh't.     But  Ascott? 
coif's  life  was  as  yet  an  unanswered  que- 
She   could   but   leave   it  in  Omnipotent 
hands. 

■  av  home,  asking  it  i 


CHAPTER  XI. 


mt  Hilary  fixed  her  hoe    - 
Kl,j-..  :';..,, — the  lad,.so  little;. 

J  vet.   who  at   tn  ■'   "'it 

.,..;.,,     ;,,,.;,  a8  t >i :  of  civil  policemen,  and  going  a  little 

,)d  :  and  6l:e  felt  thankful  tl  ;iake   this  romantic 

,].,.v   ha  to  London  t  i   about   so  sensible  and  practical  a 


be  beside  him,  to  help  him.  lo  save  him,  if  he 
needed  saving,  as  w.-men  only  can.  For,  after 
all,  he  was  but  a  boy.  And  though  as  he 
walked  bv.  her  side,  stalwart  and  manly,  the: 


little  woman? — that  she  might  walk  once  up 
Hurtn  i  and   down  again.     But  nobody 

knew  the  (act,  and  it  did  nobody  any  harm 
Meantime  at  No  15  the  afternoon  bad  pass- 


MISTRESS  AOT  MAID. 


43 


ed  heavily  enough.  Miss  Selina  had  gone  to 
lie  down  :  she  always  did  of  Sundays,  and 
Elizabeth,  alter  making  her  comfortable,  by 
the  little  attei 


tice  boy,  now  Mr.  Peter  Ascott,  of  Russell 
Square. 
She  rose  to  receive  him  :  there  was  always 
Leaf's  reception  of  stran- 


had  descended  to  the  dreary  n  a  slight  formality  belonging  to  her  own 


had  been   appropriated  to  herself,  under  the 
Dame  of  a  "  private  kit<  u  the  which, 

all  the  i  improvement 

could  achieve,  sat  lil  the  ruins 

:   for  the  tidy  bright 
Already;  from  her 


■ration,    and   to    the  time   when   the 

were  a  "coun'y  family."     Perhaps  this 

extra  dignity,  graceful  as  it  was,  overpowered 

the  little  man  ;  or  else,  being  a  bachelor,  he 

unaccustomed  to  ladies'  society:  but  he 

grew  red   in    the   face,   twiddled  his  hat,  and 


'brief  ex]  .  she  had  decided  that  London, then  east  a  sharp  inquisitive  glance  toward 

people  v  rid  shams,   because  th  ier. 


not  in  the  leasl  care  to  have  their  kitchens 
comfortable.  She  wondered  how  she  should 
ever  exist  in  this  one,  and  might  have  carried 
her  sad  and  sullen  face  up  stairs,  if  Miss  Leal 
had  not  comedown  stairs,  and  glancingabout 
with  that  ever  gentle  smile  of  hers,  said  kind- 
ly. •■  Well,  it  is  not  very  pleasant,  but  you 
have  made  the  best  of  it,  Elizabeth.  We  must 
all  put  up  with  something,  you  know.  Now, 
as  my  eves  arc  pot  very  good  to-day,  suppose 
you  come  up  and  read  me  a  chapter." 

So,  in  the  quiet  parlor,  the  maid  sat  down 
opposite  her 
that  P>%k  which  says  distinctly 

'.  that   w 
doetlt .    t 

And  yet  says  immediately  after-: 
"  ] 

iring  thr 

]) 

And  I  think  thi 
ed.  not  in  pn  acl  ing  on]  practice, 

when  he  sent  back  theslave  *  hiesiinus  to  Phil- 
emon, praying  that  he  mi  .  'mot 
now:-  ant,  but above  a  servant,  a  bro- 
ther beloved,"  that  Divic  have 


"Miss  Leaf,  I  presume,  ma'am.    The  eld- 

"  I  am  the  eldest  Miss  Leaf,  and  very  glad 
to  have  an  opportunity  of  thanking  you  for 
your  long  kindness  to  my  nephew.  Elizabeth, 
give  Mr.  Ascott  a  chair." 

While  doing  so,  and  before  her  disappear- 
ance, Elizabeth  took  a  rapid  observation  of  the 
visitor,  whose  name  and  history  were  perfectly 
familiar  to  her.  Mt)st  small  towns  have  their 
heio,  and  Stowbury's  was  Peter  Ascott,  the 
icer's  boy,  the  little  fellow  who  had  gone  up 
mistress,  and  read  aloud  out  of;  to  London  to  seek  his  fortune,  and  had,  strange 

ay,    found    it.     Whether  by  industry  or 

xcept  that  industry  is  luck,  and  luck  is 

lier  word  for  industry — he  had  grad- 

n  to  be  a  large  city  merchant,  a  dry- 

onclude  it  would  be  caUed,  with  a 

e  house,  carriage,  etc.     He  had  never 

his  native  place,  which  indeed  could 

'e  expected  of  him,  as  he  h'ad  no  relations, 

when  asked,  as  was  not  seldom  of  course, 

he  subscribed  liberally  to  its  charities. 

Altogether  he  was  a  decided  hero  in  the 
place,  and  though  people  really  knew  very 
little  about  him,  the  less  they  knew  the  more 
they  gossiped,  holding  him  up  totherisinggen- 
eration  as  a  modem  Dick  Whittington,  and 
reverencing  him  extremely  as  one  who  had 
shed  glory  on  his  native  town.  Even  Eliza- 
beth had  conceived  a  great  idea  of  Mr.  Ascott. 


looked. tenderly  upon  these  t  .en — both  When  she  saw  this  little  fat  man,  coarse  and 

women,  though  of  such  different  age  and  po-  common  looking  in  spite  of  his  good  clothes 
sition,  and  :■  lem  through  His  Spirit  in  and  diamond  ring,  and  in   manner  a  curious 

lfi<  word,  as  ixture  of  pomposity  and  awkwardness,  she 

The   reading   v  sd  by.   a  can  nghed  to  herself,  thinking  what  a  very  unin- 

driving  up  ing  individual  it  was  about  whom  Stow- 


mendously    grand  nan's 

knock,    which  made  art  in  her 

easy  chair. 

"  B^t  it  can't  be  visitors  to  us.  We  know 
nobody.     Sit  still,  Elizabeth." 

It  was  a  visitor,  however,  though  by  what 
ingenuity  he  found  them  out  remained,  when 


bury  had  told  so  many  interesting  stories. 

However,  she  went  up  to  inform  Miss  Seli- 
na, and  prevent  her  making  her  appearance 
before  him  in  the  usual  Sunday  dishabille  in 
which  she  indulged  when  no  visitors  were  ex- 
pected. 
After  his  first  awkwardness,  Mr.  Peter  As- 
they  came  to  think  of  it.  a  great  puzzle.  A  cotl  became  quite  at  his  ease  with  Miss  Leaf, 
card  was  sent  in  by  the  dirty  servant  of  Mrs.  He  began  to  talk — not  of  Stowbury,  that  was 
Jones,  speedily  followed  by  a  stout,  bald- [tacitly  ignored  by  both — but  of  London,  and 
headed,  roucd  faced  man — I  suppose  I  ought, then  of  "my  house  in  Russell  Square,  "my 
to  write  "gentleman" — in  whom,  though  she  carriage,"  "my  servants" — the  inconvenience 
had  not  seen  him  for  years,  Miss  Leaf  found, of  keeping  coachmen  who  would  drink,  and 
no  difficulty  iu  recognizing  the  grocer's  preu-|footmen  who  would  not  clean  the  plate  prop- 


44 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


erlv:  ending  by  what  was  a  favorite  moral  jlhen  into  his  hat,  then,  at  good  luck  would 
axiom  of  his,  that  "  wealth  anil  position  arc  have  it.  out  of  the  win. low,  ivhere  he  caught 
heavy  responsibilities.''  u  ol'liis  cirriage  ami  horses.     These  revi- 

He  himself  seemed,  however,  not  to  have  vol  his.  spirits,  and  made  him  recognize  what 
been  quite  overwhelmed  by  them;  hewasfal  he  was — Mr.  Ascott,  of  Russell  Square,  ad- 
and  flourishing — with  an  acuteriess  and  powei  dressing  himself  in  the  character  of  a  benevo- 
in  the  upper  half  of  his  face  which  accounted  lent  patron  to  the  Leaf  family, 
for  his  having  attained  his  present  position.  "Glad  to  see  you.  Miss.  Long  time  since 
The  lower  half,  somehow  Miss  Lent  did  not  we  met — neither  of  us  so  young  as  we  have 
like  it.  she  hardly  knew  why,  though  a  phya  been — but  you  do  wear  well,  I  must  say." 
iognomist  might   have   known.      For   Peter      Miss  Selina  drew  back;;  she  was  within  an 


Ascott  had  the  underhanging,  obstinate,  sen- 
sual lip,  the  large  throat — bull-necked,  as  it 
has  been  called — indications  of  that  essentially 


inch  of  being  highly  offended,  when  she  top 
happened  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  carriage 
and  horses.     So  she  sat  down  and  entered  into 


animal  naiure  which  may  be  born  with  the  conversation  with  him  ;  and  when  she  liked, 
nob'eman  as  with  the  clown;  which  no  edu  nobody  could  be.  more  polite  and  agreeable 
cation  car.  refine,  and  no  talent,  though  it  may  than  Miss  Selina. 

co-eqi.-t  with  it,  can  ever  entirely  remove.  He  So  it  happened  that  the  handsome  equipage 
reminded  one,  perforce,  of  the  rough  old  prov-  crawled  round  am!  round  the  Crescent,  or  stood 
erb;  "  You  can't  make  a  silk  purse  out  of  ajpawing  the  silent  Sunday  street  before  No.  15, 
sow's  ear. '  for  very  nearly  an  hour,  even  till  Hilary  came 

Still,  Mr.  Ascott  was  not  a  bad  man,  though  home, 
something  deeper  ihanjiis  glorious  indift'er-l  It  was  vexatious  to  have  to  make  excuses 
enceto  grammar,  and  his  dropped  h's — which,  Ifqr  Ascott:  particularly  as  his  godfather  said 
to  steal  some  <n?'«  joke,  might  have  l>ee;i  with  a  laugh,  that,  "young  fellows  would  be 
swept  up  in  bushels  from  Miss  Leaf's  parlor  young  fellow*."  they  needn't  expect  to  see  the 
— made  it  impossible  for  him  ever  to  be,  by , lad  til!  midnight,  or  till  to-morrow  ruprning. 
any  culture  whatever,  a  gentleman.  But  though  in    ibis,  and   other  things,  he 

They  ta'ked  of  Asco:t,  as  being  the  mo-t  somewhat  annoyed  the  ladies  from  Stowbury, 
convenient  mutual  subject;  and  Misi  Leaf  Me^one  could  say  he  was  not  civil  to  them  — 
exjie-sel  the  gratitude  which  her  nephew  fell  Singly  'civil.     He  offered  them  Botanical 

and  she  earnestly  hoped  would  ever  show, .to- 'Garden  tickets — Zoological  Garden  tickets; 
ward  his  kind  godfather.  he  even,  after  some  meditation  and  knitting 

Mr.  A-coft  looked  pleased.  of  his  shaggy  grey  eyebrows,  bolted  out  with 

p  "Um — yes,  Aseo't's  not  a  had  fellow — be-1  an  invitation  for  the  whole  family  to  dinner  at 
lieve  he  means  well:  but  weak,  ma'am,  l^rlr  Russell  Square  the  following  Sunday., 
afraid  he's  weak.  Known  nothing  of  business,  "I  aLvave  give  my  dinners  on  Sunday.  I've 
— ha?  ud  business  habits  whatever.  Howev-  no  time  any  other  day,"  said  he,  when  Miss 
er,  ve  must  make  the  best  of  him;  I  don't  Leaf  gently  hesitated.  "  Come  or  not,  just  as 
repent  aiy  thing  I've  done  for  him. '  \ou  like." 

•'  I  hope  not,"  said  Miss  Leaf,  gravely.  Miss  Selina,  to  whom  the  remark  was  chiefly 

And  then  there  ensued  an  uncomfortable  addressed,  bowed  the  most  gracious  accept- 
pause,  which  washnppilv  broken  by  the  open-  ance. 

ing  of  the  door,  and  the  sweeping  in  of  a  large,  The  visitor  took  very  little  notice  of  Miss 
goolly  figure.  Hilary.     Probably,  if  asked,  he  would  have 


"  My  sister,  Mr.  Ascott :  my  sister  Selina." 
The  lirtle  stout  man  actually  started,  and, 
as  he  bowed,  blushed  up  to  the  eyes. 

Miss  Selina  was.  as  I  have  stated,  the  beautv 


described  her  as  a  small,  shabbily-dressed  per- 
.-on.  looking  very  like  a  governess.  Indeed, 
the  factof  iier governess-ship  seemed  suddenly 
to  recur  to  him  ;  he  asked  her  it  she  meant 


of  the  family,  and  had  once  been  an  acknowl-  to  set  up  another  school,  and  being  informed 
edg  'd  Stowbury  belle.  Even  now,  though  nigh  that  she  rather  wished  private  pupils,  pro- 
upun  forty,  when  carefully  ami  becomingly  mised  largely  that  she  should  have  the  full 
dressed,  her  tall  figure,  and  her  well  featured,  benefit  6f  his  "patronage"  among  his  friend*. 


fair  complexioned,  unwrinkled  face,  made  her 
6till  appear  a  very  personable  woman.  At  any 
rate.  ,«he  was  not  faded  enough,  nor  the  city 
magnate's  heart  cold  enough  to  prevent  a  sud- 
den revival  of  the  vision  which — in  what  now 


Then  he  departed,  leaving  a  message  for  As- 
cott to  call  next  day,  as  he  wiHhed  to  speak 
to  him." 

'■  For  you  must  be  aware,  Miss  Leaf,  that 
though  your  nephew's  allowance  is  nothing- 


seemed  an  a'mo<t  antediluvian  stage  of  exist-  a  mere  drop  in  the  bucket  out  ot  my  large in- 
ence — had  dazzled,  Sunday  after  .v-  come — still,   when  it  comes  year  after  year, 

eyes  of  the  grocer's  lad.     If  there  is  one  pure  and  no  chance  of  his  shifting  for  hinnelf,  th^ 
spot  in  a  man's  heart — even  the  very  worldli-  most  benevolent  man  in   the  world  feels  in- 
est  of  men — it  is  usually  his  boyish  first  love,  dined  to  stop  the  supplies.     Not  that  I  shall 
8o  Peter  Ascott  looked  hard  atMisa  Seluia,;dd  that — at  leant  not  immediately  :  heieafine 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


45 


young  fellaw,  whom  I'm  rather  proud  to  have 
helped  a  step  up  the  ladder,  and  I've  a  great 
respect'  — here  he  bowed  to  Miss  Selina — "a 
great  respect  for  your  family.  Still  there  mart 
come  a  time  when  I  shall  be  obliged  to  shut  up 
my  purse-strings.     You  understand,  ma'am." 

"  I  do,"  Mis?  Lent  answered,  trying  tospeak 
with  dignity,  and  yet  with  patience,  for  she 
eaw  Hilary  a  face  beginning  to  flame.  "  And 
I  trust,  Mr.  Ascott.  my  nephew  will  soon  cease 
to  be  an  expense  to  you.  It  was  your  own 
voluntary  kindness  that  brought  it  upon  your- 
8elt,  and  I  hope  ,ou  have  not  found,  never  will 
find,  either  him  or  us  ungrateful." 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,  ma'am,  I  don't  look  for 


childish  fits  of  irrepressible  laughter,  was 
startled  to  see  Selina's  face  in  •ne  blaze  of 
indignation. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  silly  chit,  and  don't 
chatter  about  things  you  don't  understand." 

And  she  swept  majestically  autaf  the  room. 

'•  What  Wave  I  dune?  Why  she  is  really- 
vexed.  If  I  had  thought  she  would  have  taken 
it  in  earnest  I  w«ul  I  never  hu\e  said  a  word. 
Who  would  have  thought  it !  " 

But  Mi.s  Selina's  fits  of  annoyance  were  so 
common  that  the  sisters  rarely  troubled  them- 
selves long  on  the  matter.  And  when  at  tea- 
time  she  came  down  in  tae  best  of  spirits,  they 
met  her  half-way,  as  thev  alwavs  didt  thankful 


gratitude.     Still,  if  Ascott  does  work  his  way  tor  these  brief  calms  in  the  family  atmosphere, 

into  a  good  position — and  he'll  he  the  first  of  which  never  lasted  too  long. 

his  fami.v  that  ever  did,  I  reckon — but   1   beg      It  was  a  somewhat  heavy  evening.     Thev 


your  pardon.  Miss  Leaf.  Ladies,  I'll  bid  you 
good  dav.  Will  vour  servant  call  my  car- 
riage ? ,; 

The  instant  he  was  gone  Hilary  burst 
forth— 

"If  I  wero  Ascott;  I'd  rather  starve  in  a 
garret,  break  stones  in  the  high  road,  or  buy 
a  broom  and  sweep  a  crossing,  than  I'd  be 
dependent  on  this  man,  this  pompous,  purse- 
proud,  illiterate  fool !  " 

"No.  not  a  fool, ';  reproved  Johanna.  "An 
acute,  clear-headed,  nor.  I  think,  bad-hearted 
man.  Coarse  and  common*,  certainly;  but  if 
we  were  to  hateevery  thing  coarse  *r  common, 
we  should  find  plenty  to  hate.   Besides,  ihougl 


waited  supper  till  after  ten  ;  and  yet  Ascott  did 
not  appear.  Miss  Leaf  read  the  chapter  as 
usual ;  and  Elizabeth  was  sent  to  bed,  but  still 
no  sign  of  the  absentee. 

"  I  v*'il)  sit  up  for  him.  He  cannot  be  many 
minutes  new."  said  his  Aunt  Hilary,  and  set- 
tled herself  in  the  solitary  parlor,  which  one 
candle  and  no  fire  made  as  cheerless  as  cauld 
possibly  be. 

There  she  waited  till  midnight  before  the 
young  man  came  in.  Perhaps  he  was  struck 
with  compunction  bv  her  weary  white  face — 
by  her  silent  lighting  of  his  candle,  for  he 
made  her  a  thousand  apologies. 

Ton  my  honor.  Aunt  Hilary,  I'll  never 


he  does  his  kindness  in  an  unpleasant  way.  keep  you  up  so  late  again.  Poor  dear  auntie, 
think  how  very,  very  kind  he  has  been  taihow  tired  she  looks!"  and  he  kissed  her  af- 
Ascott."  |fectionate!y.     "Bui;  ii  you  were  a  young  fellow, 

"  Johamia,  I  think  you  would  find  a  good  and  got  among  other  young  fellows,  an  J  they 
word  for  the  de'il  himself,  as  we  used  to  say. \  over-persuaded  you." 
cried  Hilar  v.  laughing.     "  Well,  Se'ina;  andr*    "You  should  learn  to  say*,  No." 


"Ah"— with   a  sigh— "so   I    ought,  if  I 
were  as  good  as  my  Aunt  Hilary." 


CHAPTER  XII. 
Months   slipped  by  ;  the   trees  in   Burton 


what  is  your  opinion  of  our  stout  friend  ?  " 

Miss  Selina,  bridling  a  little,  declared  thai 
she  did  not  see  sa  much  to  complain  af  in  Mr. 
Ascott.  He  was  not  educated,  certainly,  but 
he  was  a  most  respectable  person.  And  his 
calling  upon  them  so  s  ton  was  most  civil 
and  attentive.  She  thought,  considering  his 
present  position,  they  should  forget — indeed, 

as  Christians  they  were  bound  to  forget — that  .Crescent  had  long  been  all  bare;  the  summer 
he  was  once  their  grocer's  boy,'  and  go  to  dine  cries  of  itinerant  vegetable  dealers  and  flower 
with  him  next  Sunday.  sellers  had  vanished  out  cf  the  quiet  street. — 

-  "  For  my  part,  1  shall  go,  though  it  is  The  three  sisters  almost  misled  them,  sitting 
Sunday.  I  <ronsider  it  quite  a  religious  duty — in  that  one  dull  parlor  from  morning  til! 
my  duty  towards  my  neighbor."  night,  in  the  intense  solitude  of  people  who, 

'*  Which  is  to  love  him  as  yourself.  I  am  having  neither  heart  nor  money  to  spend  in 
sure.  Selina.  I  have  no  objection.  It  would  be  gayeties,  live  forlorn  in  Louden  lodgings,  and 
a  grand  romantic  wind  up  to  the  story  which. knowing  nobody,  have  nobody  to  visit,  nobody 
Stowbury  used   to  tell— of  how  the  'prentice|to  visit  them. 

boy  stared  his  eyes  out  at  the  beautiful  young]  Except  Mr.  Ascott,  who.still  called,  and  oc- 
lady  ;  and  you  would  get  the  advantage  of  casionallv  staid  to  tea.  The  hospitalities. 
•  my  house  in  Rus»ell  Square,'  '  rev  carriage  however,  wer  all  on  their  side.  The  first  en- 
and  servants,'  and  be  able  to  elevate  yourjtertninment — to  which  Selina  insisted  upon 
whole  family.  Do,  now!  c.?t}Our  cap  at  going,  and  Johanna  thought  Hilary  and  Ascott 
Peter  Ascott."  had  better  go  too — was  Hplendid  enough,  but 

Here  Hilary,  breaking  out  into  one  of  her, they  were  the  only  ladies  present;  and  though 


40 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


Mr-  Ascoft  did  the  honois  with  great  magnili-'passeth  all  understanding,"  waJ3  a  living  com- 

cence.  putting  Miss  Selina  at  the  head  of  hi?  ment  on  the  truth  oi  these  words. 
table,  where  she  looked  exceedingly  well,' still  Another  comfort  Hilary  had— Elizabeth. — 
the.  sisters  agreed  it  was  better  that  alj  further  During  her  long  days  of  absence,  wandering 
invitations  to  Russell  Square  should  he  de-  from  one  end  of  London  to  the  other,  after 
clined.  Miss  Selina  herself  said  it  would  be  advertisements  that  she  had  answered,  or  gov- 
inore  dignified  and  decorous.  erness  institutions  that  she  had  applied  to,  the 

'Other  visitors  they  had  none.     Ascott  never  domestic  affairs  fell   almost  entirely  into  the 
ottered  to  bring  any  of  his  friends  ;  and  grad-  hands  of  th.     It  was  she  who  bought 

ually  (hey  saw  very  little  of  him.  He  was  in,  and  kept  a  jealous  eye,  not  unneeded,  over 
frequently  out,  especially  at  meal  times,  so  provisions;  she  who  cooked  and  waited,  ami 
that  his  aunts  gave  up  the  struggle  to  make  sometimes  even  put  a  helping  hand,  coarse. 
the  humble  dinners  better  and  more  to  his  but  willing,  into  the  family  sewing  and  mend- 
liking,  and  would  even  have  hesitated  to  take  ing.  This  had  now  become  so  vital  a  necessity 
the  money  which  he  was  understood  to  pay  thai  it  was  fortunate  Miss  Leaf  had  no  other 
tor  his  board,  had  he  ever  offered  it,  which  he  occupation,  and  Miss  Selina  no  other  enter- 
did  not.  Vet  still  whenever  he  did  happen  tainmenr,  than  stitch,  stitch,  stitch,  at  the 
to  remain  with  them  a  day,  or  an  evening,  he'ever-beginnitig,  never-ending  wardrobe  wants 
was  good  and  affectionate,  aud  always  enter-  which  assail  decent  poverty  every  where,  es- 
tair.ed  them  with  descri|  of  all  he  would  pecially  in  London, 

do  as  soon  as  he  got  into  practice.  "  Clothes  seem  to  wear  out  frightfully  fas 

Meantime  thev  kept  house  as  economically  said  Hilary  one  day,  when  she  was  putting  on 
as  possible  upon  the  little  ready  money  they  her  oldest    gown,  to  suit   a  damp,  foggy  di 
had,  hoping  that  more  would    come  in — that  when  the   streets  were  slippery  with  the  mud 
Hilary  would  get.  pupils.  of  settled  rain. 

But  Hilary    never  did.     To  any  body  who      "  I  saw  "such  beautiful   merino  d  in  a 

knows  London  this  will  not  be  surprising. —  -hop  in  Southampton  Row,"  insinuated  Eiiz- 
The  wonder  was  in  the  Misses  Leaf  1  abeth;  but  her  i  i  shook  her  head, 

simple  a3  to  imagine  tnat,  a  young  countiy  la-       "No,  no  ;  my  old  blac  i  i tally, 

dy,  settling  herself -in  lodgings  in  an  obscure  and  I  can  easily  put  on  two  shawls.  Nobody 
metropolitan  street,  without  friends  or  intro-jknows  me ;  and  people  may  wear  what  they 
duction.  could  ever  expect  such  a.  thing.     Ko-  like  in  London".     Don't  loos:  so  gn  loa- 

thing but  her  own  daring,  and  the  irrepres-i-  beth.     What  does  it  signify  if  I  can  hut.  keep 
ble  well-spring  of  hope  that  was  in  her  healthy '  myselt  warm  ?     Now,  run  awa 
yrifuth,  could  have    sustained  her  in  what.-  tern     Elizabeth   obeyed,   but    shortly  reappeared 
years  after,  would  have  appeared  to  her,  as  it  with  a    bundle — a  large,   old  fashioned  thick 
certainly     was,     downright     insanity.      But  shawl. 

Heaven'takes  care  of  the  ma'il,  the  righteously  "  Mother  gave  it  me  ;  her  mistress  gave  it 
and  unselfishly  mad,  and    Heaven  took  care  her  :  but' we  rer  worn  it.  and  in  .all. 

ot  poor  Hilary.  ■    ;   you   iidn't  mind.pu  this 

The   hundred  labors   she  went    through — once — this  terrible  soakin 
weariness  of  body  and  travail  of  soul,  the  risks      The  scarlet  face,  the  ei 

she  ran.  the  pitfalls   she  escaped — what    ni  no   resisting   tiiem.     One  natural    pang 

to   record   here?     Many   have   recorded    the  Hilary  felt — that  in  her  sha  be! 

like,  manv  more    have  known    them,  and  ac-  fallen  so  low  as  to  be  indebted  to  f  tnt, 

knowledged  that  when   such  histories;  and  then   she  too  b;  shame 

produced  in    books  how   utterly    imaginati  rigJthe  kindness  than  for  her  own  pride 

fades    before   realitv.      Hilary    neve;-   lool        that  could  not  :h. 


fades 

back  upon  that  time  herself  without  a  shud- 
dering wonder  how  she  could  have  dared  all 
and  gone  through  all.  Possibly  she  never 
could,  but  for  the  sweet  old.  face,  growing  older 


yet  sweeter  everv  dav,  wlnci  lioujfb  "  peo]  htwear  any  thing  in  Lon 


"  Than  ."  she  ( 

and  gently,  and  let  herself  be  wra  i  the 

thick  shawl.     Its  gorgeous  reds' and  yellows 
would,  she  knew,  make  her  noticeable,  even 


the  minute  she   opened  the  dooi  of   that  dull 
parlor,  and  made  even  No.  br>  look  like  home. 

When  she  told,  sometimes  gayly.  someti 
with  burning,  bursting  tears,  the  tale  of  her 
day's  efforts  andflay's  failures,  it  was  always 
comfort  to  feel  Johanna's  hand  on  her  hair, 
Johanna's  voice  whispering  over  her,  "Never 
mind,  my  child,  all  will  come  right  in  time. 
All  happens  for  good." 

And  the  face,  withered  and  worn,  yet  calm 
as  a  summer  .sea,  full   of  the  "peace  which 


don."     Still,  she  put  it  on  with  agoo 

■  t-.d  all  through  her  peregrination  day  it 

vanned  not  only  her  r$,  but  her  heart; 

Coming  home,  she  paused  wistfully  before1  a 

glittering  hop:  her  poor  little  feel  were 

so  soaked  and  cold.    Could  she  possibly  afford 

a  new  pair  of  boots?     ft  was  not  a  matter  ot 

vanity — she    had    passed    that.     She  did -not 

care  now    how  ugly  and  shabby   looked  the 

"wee  feet"  that  had  once  been  praised  ;  but 

she  felt  it  might  be  a  matter  of  health  and 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


47 


prudence.  Suppose  she  caught  cold — i'ell  ill  She  nevei  thought  of  being  annoyed  with  the 
— died:  died,  leaving  Johanna  to  struggle  shopkeeper,  who,  though  he  trusted  her  with 
alone:  died  before  Robert  Lyon  came  home,  the  sixpence,  carefully  took  down  her  name 
Both  thought-;  struck  sharp.  She  was  too  and  address :  still  less  to  suspecting  the  old 
young,  stil  r,  or"had  not  suffered  enough,  calmly  lady   opposite,   who  sat  and  listened  to  the 


.oik  of  death  and  dying 
'•  It  will  do  no  harm  to  inquire  the  price 
might  stop  it  out  in  omnibus* 


trarisaction — apparently  a  well-to-do  customer, 
clad  in  a  rich  black  silk  and  handsome  sable 
furs — of  looking  down  upon  her  and  despising 


For  this  was  the  way  that  every  new  article  her.     She   herself  never  despised    any  body 


of   dress    had  to  be  procured — "stopping    if 
out"  of  something  else. 

After   trying  several  pairs— with  a  fierce, 

ash   at  a  small  hole  which  the  day's 

sing  had  worn  in   her  well-darned  stock- 


except  for  wickedness. 

So  she  waited  contentedly,  neither  thinking 
of  herself  nor  of  what  others  thought  of  her: 
but  with  her  mind  quietly  occupied  by  the  two 
thoughts,  which  in  any  brief  space  of  rest  al- 


ings,  and  which   she  was  sure  the   shopman 'ways  recurred,  calming  down  all  annoyances, 
saw,  as  well  as  an  old  lady  who  sat  opposite  and  raising  her  above  the  level  of  petty  pains 


-Hilary  bought  the  plainest  and  stoutest  of 
boots.  The  bill  overstepped  her  purse  by  six 
I  ence,  but  she  promised  thai  sum  on  delivery, 
and  paid  the  rest.  She  had  got  into  a  nervous 
horror  of  letting  any  account  stand  over  for  a 
single  day. 

Look  tenderly,    reader,  on  this  oicture  of 


Johanna  and  Robert  Lyon.  Under  the  in- 
fluence of  these  her  tired  face  grew  composed, 
and  there  was  a  wishful,  faraway,  fond  look' 
in  her  eyes,  which  made  it  not  wonderful  that 
the  said  old  lady — apparently  an  acuteoldsoul 
in  her  way — should  watch  her,  as  we  do  occa- 
sionally  watch  strangers  in  whom  we  have 


struggles  so  small,  of  sufferings  so  uninterest-: become  suddenly  interested, 
ing  and  mean.  I  paint  it  not  because  it  is1  There  is  no  accounting  for  these  interests, 
original,  but  because  it  is  so  awfully  true.  or  to  the  events  to  which  they  give  rise. 
Thousands  of  women,  well  born,  well  reared,|s0metimes  they  are  pooh-pooh-ed  as"roman- 
know  it  to  be  true— burned  into  them  by  the  tjc>»  "unnatural,"  "like  a  bit  in  a  novel ;" 
cruel  conflict  of  their  youth  ;  happy  they  if  it  and  yet  they  are  fact8  continuallv  occurring, 
ended  m  their  youtn,  while  mind  and  body  especially  to  people  of  quick  intuition,  observ- 
had  still  enough  vitality  and  elasticity  to  en-Ljfo^  ami  Rympathv.  Nay,  even  the  most 
1  paint  it,  because  it  accounts  for  theorilinrirv  pe0ple  have"  known  or  heard  of  such, 

resulting  in  mysterious,  life-long  loves  ;  firm 
friendships  :  strange  yet  often  wonderful  hap- 
sudden  revolutions  of  fortune 
things    utterly    unaccountable 
unscru  table 


accusation    sometimes    made — especially   by 
men — that  women  are  naturally  stingy.    Pos- 
sibly so:  but  in   many   instances   may  it  not '.)V  marriage 
have  been  this  petty  struggle  with  petty  wants,  anj    destinv : 
this  pitiful  calculating  of  penny  against  penfiy,  L^   except'  by  the"belieTin'  the 
how  best  to  save  here  and  spend  there,  whichjprovj(jeftCe  which 
narrows  a  woman's  nature  in  spite  of  herself  ?j 
it  sometimes  takes  years  of  comparative  ease 
and  freedom  from  pecuniary  cares  to  counter- 
act the  grinding,  lowering  effects  of  a  youth  of 
[  overty. 

And  J  paint  this  picture,  too,  literally,  and 


"Shape?  <  u  ■  ends. 
Rougbihew  tliem  as  we  will." 


When  Hilary  left  the  shop  she  was  startled 
by  a  voice  at  her  elbow. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  if  your  way  lies  up 
not  on  its  picturesque  side — it,  indeed,  poverty  Southampton  Row,  would'  you  object  to  give 


has  a  picturesque  side — in  order  to  show  an- 
other side  which  it  really  has — high,  heroic, 
made  up  of  dauntless enduranee,  i-ifice. 

and  self  control.  Also,  io  indicate  that  bless 
ing  which  narrow  circum 


an  old  woman  a  share  of  that  capital  umbrella 
of  youi  -•'."' 

"With  pleasure,"  Hilary  answered,  though 
the  oddness  of  the  request  amused  her.  And 
it  was  granted  really   with  pleasure  ;  for  the 


the  habit  of  looking  more  to  the  realities  than  old  lady  spoke  with  those  "accents  of  the 
to  thi  of  things,  and  of  finding  pleas-  mountain  tongue*'   which  this  foolish  Hilary 

ure  in  enjoyments  mental  rather  than  sensuous,  never  ized  without  a  thrill  at  the  heart. 

inward  rather  than  external.  When  people  "  May  be  you  think  an  old  woman  ought  to 
can  truly  recognize  this  they  cease  either  to  be  take  a  cab,  and  not  Le  intruding  upon  strang- 
afraid  or  ashamed  of  poverty.  -  ;  but  1  am  hale  and  hearty,  and  beingonly 

Hilary  was    not  ashamed: — not  even   now.  a  street's  length  from  my  own  door,  I  dislike 
when  hers  smote  sharper  and  harder  than   it  to  waste  unnecessary  shillings.'' 


had  ever  done  at  Stowbury.  She  felt  it  a  sore 
thing  enough  :  but  i*  never  humiliated  nor  an- 
gered her.     Either  she  was  too  p  oud  or  not 


"  Certainly,"  acquiesced  Hilary,  with  a  half 

sigh  :  shillings  were  only  too  precious  to  her. 

"  I   saw   you   in    the    boot  shop,    and  you 


proud  enough;  but  her  low  estite  always  seemed  the  sort  of  young  lady  who  would  do  a 
seemed  to  her  too  simply  external  a  thing  to  kindness  to  an  old  body  like  me ;  80  I  said  to 
affect  her  relations  with  the  world  outside,  myself,  *  111  ask  hex.' " 


48 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


"  I  am  glad  you  did."  Poor  girl !  she  felt  Iquidder,  a  prudent  person,  who  never  did 
unconsciously  please  1  at  finding  herself  still  tilings  by  halves,  and,  like  most  truly  gener- 
ate to  show  a  kindi  -SS  to  any  body.  |ous  people,  was  cautious  even  in  her  extreme&t 

They  walked  on  a:.d  on — it  was  certainly  a I fits  of  generosity,  at  tkat  very  moment  was 
long  street's  length— to  the  stranger's  door.'sitting  in  Mrs.  Jones's  first  flsor,  deliberately 
and  it  took  Hilary  a  good  way  round  from  hers  :jdiscovering  every  single  thing  possible  to  be 
but  she  said  nothing  of  this,  concluding,  of  learned  about  the  Leaf  family, 
course,  that  her  companion  was  unaware  ef|  Nevertheless,  owing  to  Selina's  indignant 
where  she  lived;  in  which  she  was  mistaken,  pertinacity,  Hilary's  own  hesitation,  an  1  adira 
They  stopped  at  laat  before  a  respectable:  hope  of  a  pupil  which  rose  up  and  faded  like 
house  near  Brunswick  Square,  bearing  a  brass  the  rest,  the  possible  acquaintance  lay  dormant 
plate,  with  the  words  "Mi*s  Balquidder."         for  two  or  three  weeks  ;  till,  alas!  the  fabulous 

"That  is  my  name,  and  very  much  obliged  wolf  actually  came  to  the  door;  and  the  sis- 
to  you,  my  dear.  How  it  rains  !  Ye're  just  ters,  after  paying  their  week's  rent,  looked 
droukit,."  |aghast  at  one  another,  not  knowing  where  in 

Hilary  smiled  and  shook  her  damp  shawl. !the  wide  world  the  next   week's  rent  was  to 


''I  shall  take  no  harm.  I  am  used  to  go  out 
in  all  weathers." 

"  Are  you  a  governess  ?"  The  question  was 
so  direct  and  kindly,  that  it  hardly  seemed  an 
impertinence. 

"  Yes;  but  I  have  no  pupils,  and  I  fear  1 
shall  never  get  any." 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  suppose,  because  I  know  nobody  here. 
It  seems  so  very  hard  to  get  teaching  in  Lon- 
don.    But  I  beg  your  pardon." 

"  I  beg  yours,"  said  M'ss  Balquidder — not 
without  a  certain  dignity — "  for  asking  ques- 
tions of  a  stranger.  But  I  was  once  a  strang- 
er here  myself  and  ba.l  a  '  ssir  fecht,'  as  we 
say  in  Scotland,  before  1  could  earn  even  my 
daily  bread.  Though  I  wasn't  a  governess, 
still  I  know  pretty  well  what  the  sort  of  life 
is,  and  if  I  had  daughter*  who  must  work  for 
their  bread,  the  •tie  "thing  I  would  urge  upon 
them  should  be — 'Never  become  a  govern- 
ess.'" 

"  Indeed.     For  what  reason  ?" 

"  I'll  not  tell  you  now,  my  dear,  standing 
with  all  war  wet  clothes  on  ;  but  as  I  said,  it 
you  wiil  do  me  the  favor  to  call — " 

"  Thank  you!"  said  Hilary,  not  sufficiently 
initiated  in  London  caution  to  dread  making  a 


not 


coue  from. 

"Thank  God,  we  don't  owe  any  thing: 
a  penny  !"  gasped  Hilary. 

"  No  ;  there  it*  comfort  in,  that,"  said  Johan- 
na. And  the  expression  of  her  folded  hands 
»nd  upward  face  was  not  despairing,  even 
though  that  of  the  pesr  widow,  when  her  bar- 
rel of  meal  was  gone,  and  her  cruse  of  oil 
spent,  would  hardly  have  been  sadder. 

'•  1  am  sure  we  have  wasted  nothing,  and 
cheated  nobody  ; — surely  God  will  help  us." 

"  I  know  He  will,  my  child." 

And  the  two  sisters,  elder  and  younger,  kiss- 
ed one  another,  cried  a  little,  and  then  sat 
down  to  consider  what  was  t«  be  done. 

Ascott  must  be  told  bow  things  were  with 
them.  Hitherto  they  had  not  troubled  him 
much  with  their  affairs :  indeed,  he  was  so 
little  at  home.  And  after  sems  private  con- 
sultation, both  Johanna  and  Hilary  decided 
that  it  was  wisest  to  let  the  lad  come  and  go 
as  he  liked  ;  not  attempting — as  he  once  in- 
dignantly expressed  it — "  to  tie  him  to  their 
apron  strings."  For  instinctively  these  maid- 
en ladies  felt  that  with  men,  and,  above  all, 
young  men,  the  only  way  to  bind  the  wander- 
ing heart  was  to  leave  it  free,  except  by  trying 
their  utmost  that  home  should  be  always  a 


new  acquaintance.      Besides,    she  liked    the.  pleasant  heme. 


rough  hewn,  good  natured  face ;  and  the  Scotch 
accent  was  sweet  te  her  e*r. 


It  was  touching  to  see   their  efforts,  when 
Ascott  came    in  of  evenings,  to   enliven    for 


Yet  when  she  reached  home  she  was  half  his  sake  the  dull  parlor  at  JNo.  15.  How  Jo- 
sh v  of  telling  ber  sister*  the  engagement  shejhanna  put  away  her  mending,  and  Selina 
had  made.  Selina  was  extremely  shocked. jceased  to  grumble,  and  Hilary  began  her 
and  considered  it  quite  necessary  that  the  lively  chat,  that  never  failed  to  brighten  and 
London  Directory,  the.  nearest  clergy  man,  or,  \  amuse  the  household.  Her  nephew  even 
perhaps,  Mr.  Ascott,  who  living  in  the  parish. 'sometimes  acknowledged  that  wherever  he 
must  knew— should  be  consulted  as  to  Mis'- went,  he  met  nobody.se  "clever"  as  Aunt 
Balquidder's  respectability*.  [Hilary. 

So,  presuming  upon  her  influei.ee  with  hiin, 
on  this  night,  after  the  re°t  were  gone  to  bed, 
she,  being  always  the  boldest  to  do  any  un- 
She  does  not  know  asinglethingabout  pleasant,  thing,  said  to  him, 
me.  }     "Ascott,  how  are  your  business  affairs pro>- 

Whicl/faet,  arguing  the  natter  energetic  grossing?     When  do  you  think  you  will  be 
ally  two  days  after,  the  young  lady  might  notable  to  g(t  into  practice?" 
have  been  so  sure  of,  could  she  have  peuetra-      "  Oh,  presently.    There's  no  hurry." 
ted  the  ceiling  overhead,    In  truth,  Miss  Bal-(     "  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that.    Do  you  know, 


">*>he  has  much  more  reason  to  question 
our.-:."  reco'lected  Hilary,  with  BQme  amuse- 
ment: for  I  never  iold  her  my  name  «r  ad- 
dress. 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


49 


toy  dear  boy" — and  she  opened  her  purse,; meant  no  harm.  She  repeated  over  and  over 
which  contained  a  tew  shillings — "this  is  alljagain  that  the  lad  meant  no  harm.  He  had 
the  money  we  have  in  the  world."  no   evil   ways;  wai  always   pleasant,   good- 

"  Nonsense,"  .-<u.id  Aficott,  laughing.  "  I  natured,  and  aflectionato,  in  his  own  careless 
beg  your  pardon,"  headded,  seeingit  was  withfashion  ;  but  was  no  more  to  be  relied  on  than 
her  no  laughing  matter ;  "  but  I  am  so  accus-:a  straw  that  every  wind  blows  hither  and 
tomed  to  be  hard  up  chat  I  don't  seem  to  care,  thither ;  or,  to  use  a  common  simile,  a  butter- 
It  always  comes  right  somehow — at  least  with  fly  that  never  sees  any  thing  farther  than  the 
me."  inearest  flower.     His  was,  in   short,  the  plea- 

"  How  ?"  sure-loving  temperament,  not  positively  sinful 

"Oh,  1  don't  exactly  know;  but  it  does,  or  sensual,  but  still  holding  pleasure  as  the 
Don't  fret.  Aunt  Hilary.  I'll  lend  you  a  pound  greatest  good;  and  regarding  what  deeper 
or  two/''  natures   call  "  duty,"  and  find  therein   their 

She  drew  back.  These  poor,  proud,  fond  strong-hold  and  consolation,  as  a  mere  bugbear 
women,  who,  if  their  boy,  instead  of  a  linear  a  sentimental  theory,  or  an  impossible  folly, 
gentleman,  had  been  a  helpless  invalid,  would,  Poor  lad  !  and  he  had  the  world  to  fight 
have  tended  him,  worked  for  him,  nay,  begged  with  ;  how  would  it  use  him  ?  Even  if  no 
for  him — cheerfully,  oh,  how  cheerfully  '.  want-  heavy  sorrows  for  himself  or  otherssmote  him, 
ing  nothing  in  the  whole  world  but  his  love —  his  handsome  face  would  have  to  grow  old, 
they  could  not  ask  him  for  his  money.  Even  his  strong  frame  to  meet  sickness — death. — 
now,  offered  thus,  Hilary  felt  as  if  to  take  it  How  would  he  do  it?  That  is  the  thought 
would  be  intolerable.  I  which  always  recurB.     What  is  the  t  rnd  of  such 

Still  the  thing  must  be  done.  ,men  as  these?     Alas  !  the  answer  would  come 

••  I  wish,  Ascott" — and  she  nerved  herself j from  hospital  wards,  alms-houses  and  work- 
to  say  what  somebody  ought  to  say  to  him — j  houses,  debtors'  prisons  and  lunatic  asylums. 
"  I  wish  you  would  not  lend  but  pay  us  the  To  apprehensions  like  this — except  the  last, 
pound  a  week  you  said  you  could  so  easily  happily  it  was  as  yet  too  far  off — Hilary  had 
spare."  been  slowly  and  sadly  arriving  about  Ascott 

"  To  be  sure  1  will.  What  a  thoughtless  for  weeks  past;  and  her  conversation  with 
fellow  I  have  been  !  But — but — I  fancied  you  him  to-night  seemed  to  make  them  darken 
would  have  asked  me  if  you  wanted  it.  Nev-down  upon  her  with  added  gloom.  As  she 
er  mind,  you'll  get  it  all"  in  a  lump.  Let  me' went  up  stairs  she  set  her  lips  together  hard, 
see— how  much  will  it  come  to?  You  are  the  "  I  see  there  is  nobody  to  do  any  thing  ex- 
best  head  going  for  arithmetic.  Aunt  Hilary,  cept  me.  But  I  must  not  tell  Johanna.'' 
L*o  reckon  it  all  up';''  She   lay  long  awake,  planning  every  <  -on- 

Shedidao;  and  the  sum  total  made  Ascottjceivable  scheme  for  saving  money:  till  at 
open  his  eyea  wide.  length,  her  wits  sharpened  by  the  desperation 

"Upon  my  soul  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  of  the  circumstances,  there  flashed  upon  her 
much.  I'm  very  sorry,  but  I  seem  fairly  an  idea  that  came  out  of  a  talk  she  had  had 
cleaned  outthis  quarter — only  a  few  sovereigns  with  Elizabeth  that  morning.  True,  it  was  a 
left  to  keep  the  mill  going.  You  shall  have  perfectly  new  and  untried  chance — and  a  mere 
them,  or  half  of  them,  and  I'll  owe  you  the  chance-:  still  itwasrightto  overlook  nothing, 
rest.     Here  !"  She  would  not  have  ventured  to  tell  Selina  of 

He  emptied  on  the  table,  without  couniing,  it  for  the  world,  and  even  to  Johanna,  she  only 
four  or  five  pounds.  Hilary  took  two.  asking  said — finding  her  as  wakeful  as  herself— -aid 
him  gravely  "  If  lie  was  sure  he  could  spare  it  in  a  careless  manner,  as  if  it  had  relation  to 
so  much  did  not  wish  to  inconvenience  nothing,  and  she  expected  nothing  from  it — 

I  think,  as   I  have  nothing  else  to  do.    I 


go  and 


morning. 


pee  Miss   Balquidder  to-morrow 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


him." 

'h,  nut  at  all :  and  I   wouldnVmini  if  it  wil 
did  :  you  have  been  good  aunts  to  me." 

He  kissed  her.  with  a  sudden  fit  of  com- 
punction, and  hade  her  good-night,  looking  as 
if  he  did  not  care  to  be    '  bothered  "  any  more. 

Hilary  ret:  ■         i     re   nad,    more   hopt 
at  him  tl  ad  slami 

in  her  face,  or  scolded  her  like  a  trooper.     Had      Miss  Balqi  's  house  was  a  handsome 

he  met  her  seriousness  in  the  same  spirit,  one,  handsomely  furnished,  and  a  neat  little 
even  though  it  had  been  a  sullen  or  angry  maid-servant  shoved  Hilary  at  once  into  the 
spirit— and  little  as  she  said  he  must  have  felt  dining-parlor,  where  the  mistress  sat  before  a 

she  wlnhed  him  to  feel— that  his  aunts  were  business-like  writing-table,  covered  with 

leased   with  him  ;  but  that  utterly  unim-  te  -s,  papers,  etc.,  all  arranged  with  that  careful 

pjeasible  light-beartedness  of  his— there  w;-  •  in  disorder  which  indicates,  even  in  the 

no  doing  any  thing  with  it.     There  was  so  to  smallest  things,  the  possession  of  an  accurate, 

•peak,  "  bo  catching  held  "  of  Ascoto     He  methodical   mind,  than   which  there  are  fff* 


50 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


greater  possessions,  either  to  its  owner  or  to 
the  world  at  large. 
Miss  Balquidder  was  not  a  personable  wo- 


eyes  filling,  in  spite  of  all  her  self-command. 
Miss  Balquidder — who  seemed  accustomed 
to  wait  upon    herself — went  out  of  the  room, 


man  ;  she  had  never  been  so  even  in  youth  ;  and  returned  with  cake  and  glasses  ;  then  she 
and  age  had  told  its  tale  upon  those  large,;  took  the  wine  from  the  side-board,  poured  some 
strong  features — "thoroughly  Scotch  features,  "out  for  herself  and  Hilary",  and  began  to  talk, 
they  would  have  been  called  by  those  who  "  It  is  nearly  my  luncheon-time,  and  T  am 
think  all  Scotchwomen  are  necessarily  big.  J  a  great  friend  to  regular  eating  and  drinking, 
raw-boned,  and  ugly;  and  have  never  seen' I  never  let  any  thing  interfere  with  my  own 
that  wonderfully  noble  beauty— not  "prettiness,  |  meals,  or  other  folks'  either,  if  I  can  help  it. 
but  actual  beauty    m  its    highest  physical  asll  would  as  pooh  expect  that  fire  to  keep  itself 


well  as  spiritual  development — which  i6  not 
seldom  found  across  the  Tweed. 

But  while  there   was  nothing  lovely,  there 


up  without  coals,  as  my  mind  to  go  on  work- 
ing if  I  don't  look  after  my  body.  You  un- 
derstand ?     You   seem  to  have  good  health, 


was  nothing  unpleasant  or  uncomely  in  MissiMiss  Leaf.  I  hope  you  are  a  prudent  girl, 
Balquidder.     Her  large  figure,    in    its    plain  and  take  care  of  it." 

black  silk  dress;  her  neat  wiiite  cap.  from  j  "  I  think  I  do  ;''  and  Hilary  smiled.  "At 
under  which  peeped  the  little  round  euris  of  any  rate  my  sister  does  for  me,  and  also  Eliz- 
daxen  hair,  neither  gray  nor  snowy,  but  real  abeth," 

"lint-white  locks"  still ;  and  her  good-humor-  "Ah,  I  liked  the  look  of  thai  girl.  If  fam- 
ed, motherly  look — motherly  rather  than  old-  ihes  did  but  know  that  the  most  "useful  patent 


maidish — gave   an  impression  which   may  be 
best  described  by  the  word  "comfortable." — 


of  respectability    they  can   carry  about  with 
them  is  their  maid-servant !     That  is  how  I 


She  was  a  "comfortable"  woman.     She  had  always  judge  my  new  acquaintances." 


that  quality — too  rarely,  alas  !  in  all  people, 
and  rarest  in  women  going  solitary  down  the 
hill  of  life — of  being  able,  out  of  the  deep  con- 
tent, of  her  own  nature,  to  make  other  people 
the  same. 

Hilary  was  cheered  in  spite  of  herself:  U 
always  conveys  hope  to  the  young,  when  in 
sore  trouble,  if  they  see  the  old  looking  happy. 

"Welcome,  my  dear!  I  wa*  afraid  you 
had  forgotten  your  prom 

"Oh  no,"  said  Hilary,  responding  heartily 
to  the  hearty  clasp  of  a  hand  large  as  a  man's. 
out  soft  as  a  woman  s. 

"Why  did  vou  not  come  sooner?" 


"There's  reason  in  it,  too,"  said  Hilary, 
amused  and  drawn  out  of  herself  by  the  frank 
manner  and  the  cordial  voice — I  use  the  adjec- 
tive advisedly  ;  none  the  less  sweet  because,  its 
good  terse  English  had  a  decided  Scotch  accent, 
with  here  and  there  a  Scotch  word.  Also 
t'mre  was  about.  Miss  Balquidder  a  certain  dry 
humor  essentially  Scotch — neither  Irish  "wit" 
nor  English  "fun,"  but  Scotch  humor;  a 
little  ponderous  perhaps,  yet  sparkling:  like 
the  sparkles  from  a  large  lump  of  coal,  red- 
warm  at  the  heart,  am!  capable  of  warming  a 
whole  household.  As  many  a  time  it  had 
warmed  the  little  household  at  Stowbury — for 
Move,  than  i  ■  -  ible  excuse  flashed  thro'j  Robert  Lyon  had  it  i n  pei  fection.     Like  a  wa ft 

■  's  mind,  but  she  was  too  honest,  to  gi^eJas  from  old  times,  it  made  Hilary  at  once  feel 
it.     She  gave   none  at  all,     Nor  did  she  Irkelat  home  with  Miss  Balquidder. 


to  leave  the  ii  ion  that  this  was  merely  a 

when  she  knew  she  had  only  come 
secbndar;  ■rsonal  moti 


Equally,  Miss  Balquidder  might  have  seen 
tetbing  in  this  girl's  patient,  heroic,  forlorn 
[youth  which  reminded  her  of  her  own.     Un- 


"  May  I  toil   you  why   I  came   to-day? — :  reason  i  tractions  appear, 

there   is   often    a  hidden    something  ben 
which  in  reality  makes  them  both  natural  and 
probable,  as    was  the  case  here.     In  half  an 


Ber:  advice  and  help;  and 

.mething  I  hear. 

V')\l   ;  V." 

'•  indeed! 

"  Ii  ■                roundabout  way;  f-  1  friends;  ami                     I    explained   her 

■  ho  told  our  maid-servant.''  ;present   position,  .lu.d-    and  desires.      They 

The  same  girl   I  met  on  the          .  in  the  one   cry — familiar  to  how  many 


hour  these  two  women  were  sitting  talking  like 


your  house?     I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  know 

ou  live,    Mi  lui    ' 

.  acqtiaintan 


thousands  more  of  helpless  young  women  !- 
I  want  work  1" 

Balquidder  tfhlly.    Not 


I  lizabeth  that  it    was  a  new   story — alas!  sire  heard  it 

and  something  new  in 

k  reat  inter  st  in  helping  other  the  telling  of  it:  such  extreme  directness  and 

•    ■  implicity,  such  u  nt  of  either  false  pride 

the  idea— "I  doi  in  that,  but  in  procuV-ior  fah  of  favors,  ai 

ingtl  rk.     I  want  work — ob!  so  terribly.  rto.«hrihking  from  well-meant  kindness  ;  the 

u  only  knew — "  poor  woman  speaking  freely  to  the  rich  one, 

"Sit    down,  my   dear:"    for    Hilary    was  recognizing  the  common  womanhood  of  both, 

bling  her  voice  breaking,  and  her  and  never  supposing  for  an  :'  that  mere 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID, 


51 


money  or  position  could  make  any  difference 
betw.een  them. 

The  Btorj  ended,  both  turned,  as  was  the 
character  of  both,  to  the  practical  application 
of  it — what  it  was  exactly  that  Hilary  needed, 
and  what  Miss  Balquidder  could  supply. 

The  latter  said,  alter  a  turn  or  two  up  and 
down  the  room,  with  her  hands  behind  her — 
the  only  masculine  trick  she  had — 

'•  My  dear,  before  going  further,  1  ought  to 
tell  you  one  thing — I  am  not  a  lady."' 

Hilary  looked  at  her  in  no  little  bewilder- 
ment. 


"'1 
laughing. 


is,-'    explained    Miss   Balquidder, 
.  '  not  an  educated  gentlewoman  like 
you.     1  made  my  money  myself — in  trade.     I 
kept  an  outfitter's  shop." 

"  You  must  bave  kept  it  uncommonly  well," 
«as  the  involuntary  reply,  which,  in  its  ex 
treme  honesty  and  was  perhaps   the 

best  thing  that  Hilary  could  have  said. 

"  Well,  perhaps  J  did,"  and  Miss  Balqnid- 
der laughed  her 

of  her  few  weaknesses — a  consciousness  of  her 
own  capabilities  as  a  woman  of  business,  and 
a  pleasure  at  her  own  deserved  success. 

"Therefore,  you  see,  I  can  not  help  you  as  a 
governess.  Perhaps  I  would  not  if  I  could, 
for.  so  far  as  I  see,  a  good  clearance  of  one 
half  the  governesses  into  honest  trades  would 
be  for  their  own  benefit,  and  greatly  to  the 
benefit  of  the  otlier  half.  But  that's  not  my 
affair.  I  only  meddle  with  things  I  under- 
stand. Miss  Leaf,  would  you  .be  ashamed  of 
keeping  a  shop?" 

It  is  no  reflection  upon  Hilary  to  confess 
that  this  point-blank  question  startled  her. — 
Her  bringing  up  had  been  strictly  among  the 
professional  class;  and  in  the  prov  arper 

than  even  in  London  is  drawn  the  line  between 
the  richest  tradesman  who  "keeps  a  shop," 
and  the  poorest  lawyer  doctor,  or  clergyman 
who  ever  starved  in  decent  gentility,  it  had 
been  often  a  struggle  for  Hilary  Leaf's  girlish 
pride  to  have  to  teach  A  B  C  to  littleboysand 
girls  whese  pareuts  stood  behind  counters; 
but  as  she  grew  older  she  grew  wiser,  and  in- 
tercourse with  Robert  Lyon  had  taught  her 
much.     She  never  forgot  one  dav,  when  Seli- 


ity  of  such  a  thing  did  not  occur  to  me  ;  but  I 
hope  I  should  not  be  ashamed  of  any  honest 
work  for  which  I  was  competent.  Only-  to 
serve  in  a  shop — to  wait  upon  strangers — 1  am 
so  horribly  shy  of  strangers."  And  again  the 
sensitive  color  rushed  in  a  perfect  tide  over 
cheeks  and  forehead.    _ 

Miss  Balquidder  looked,  half  amused,  com- 
ionately  at  her. 

"  No,  my  dear,  you  would  not  make  a  good 
shop-woman,  at  least  there  are  many  who  are 
better  tilted  for  it  than  you;  and  it  is  my 
I  maxim  that  people  should  try  to  find  out.  and 


to  do,  only  that  which  they  are  best  fitted  for. 
If  they  did  we  might  not  have  so  many  cases 
of  proud  despair  and  ambitious  failure  in  the 
world.  It  looks  very  grand  and  interesting 
sometimes  to  try  and  do  what  you  can't  do, 
and  then  tear  your  hair,  and  think  the  world 
has  ill-used  you — very  grand,  but  very  silly  ; 
when  all  the  while,  perhaps,  there  is  some- 
thing elee  you  can  do  thoroughly  well ;  and 
hearty  laugh,  betraying  onejthe  world  will  be  exceedingly  obliged  to  you 

for  doing  it,  and  not  doing  the  other  thing. — 
As  doubtless  the  world  was  to  me,  when,  in- 
stead of  being  a  mediocre  musician,  as  I  once 
wished  to  «be — it's  true,  my  dear — I  took  to 
keeping  one  of  the  best  ladies'  outfitting  ware- 
houses in  London." 

\V  bile  she  talked  her  companion  had  quite 
recovered  herself,  and  Miss  Balquidder  then 
;vent  on  to  explain,  what  1  will  tell  more 
briefly,  if  less  graphically,  than  the  good 
Scotchwoman,  who,  like  all  who  have  had  a 
hard  struggle  in  their  youth,  liked  a  little  to 
dilate  upon  it  in  easy  old  age. 

Hard  as  it  was.  however,  it  had  ended  early, 
for  at  fifty  she  found  herself  a  woman  of  inde- 
pendent property,  without  kith  or  kin,  still 
active,  energetic,  and  capable  of  enjoying  life. 
She  applied  her  m;nd  to  find  out  what  she 
could  best  do  with  herself  and  her  money. 

"  I  might  have  bought  a  landed  estate  to  be 
inherited  by — nobody;  or  a  house  in  Belgra- 
via,  and  an  opera-box,  to  be  shared  by — no- 
body. We  all  have  our  pet  luquries  ;  none  of 
these  were  exactly  mine." 

'•  No,"  assented  Hilary,  somewhat  abstract- 
edly. She  was  thinking — if  she  could  make  a 
-ked  him  something  about  his  grandfath-  fortune,  and  -and  give  it  away! — if,  by  any 
er  or  great-grandfather,  and  he  answeml  means,  any  honorable,  upright  heart  could  be 
quickly,  smiling,  "  Well,  I  suppose  I  had  one,  made  to  understand  that  it  did  not  signify,  in 
but.  I  really  never  heard."  Nevertheless  it  reality,  which  side  the  money  came  from; 
takes  long  to  conquer  entirely  the  class  preiu-l that  it  sometimes  showed  deeper,  the  very 
dices  of  years,  nay,  more,  of  generations.  In'deepest  attachment,  when  a  proud,  poor  man 
spite  of  her  will  Hilary  felt  hersi  If  wfhee,  and  had  6elf-respect  and  courage  enough  to  say  to 
tne  color  tush  all  over  "her  face,  at  Miss  Bal-ja  woman,  "  I  love  you.  and  l'will  marry  you; 
bidder's  question.  1  am  n«t  such  a' coward  as  to  be  afraid  of  your 

"Take  time  to   answer,  and  speak  out,  my  gold." 
dear.     Don't  be   afraid.     You'll  not  offend      But,  oh  !  what  a  ridiculous  dream  ! — and 
me." 


The  kindly  cheerful  tone  made  Hilary  re- 
cover her  balance  immediately. 

"  I  never  thought  of  it  before ;  the  possibil- 


she  sat  there,  the  penniless  Hilary  Leaf,  list- 
ening to  Miss  Balquidder,  the  rich  lady,  whose 
life  seemed  so  easy.  For  the  moment,  per- 
haps, her  own  appeared  hard.    But  she  had 


n 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


hope,  and  she  was  young.  She  knew  nothing]  T  find  more  difficult  to  get  done,  and  well 
of  the  years  and  years  that  had  had  to  be -lived  J  done,  for  it  requires  a  far  higher  clas3  of  wo- 
through  before  those  kind  eyes  looked  as  clear  men  than  generally  apply:  you  could  keep 
and  cloudless  as  now;  before  the  voice  had, the  accounts  of  a  shop;  you  should  be  the 
gained  the  sweet  evenness  of  tone  which  she]  head,  and  it  would  be  easy  to  find  the  hands, 
liked  to  listen  to,  and  felt  that  it  made  her  Let  me  see  ;  there  is  a  young  lady,  she  has 
quiet  and  "good,"  almost  like  Johanna's.  managed  my  stationer's  business  at  Kensing- 
"  You  see,  my  dear,"  said  Miss  Balquidder,  ton  these  two  years,  and  now  she  is  going  to 
'•when  one  has  no  duties,  one  must  justice  married.  Are  you  good  at  figures-,  do  you 
make  them;  when  we  have  nobody  to  carci understand  book-keeping?" 
for  us,  we  must  take  to  caring  for  every  body.!     And  suddenly  changing  into  the  woman  of 


I  suppose  " — here  a  slight  pause  indicated  that 
this  life,  like  all  women's  lives,  had  had  its 
tale,  now  long,  long-  told — "  I  suppose  I  was 
not  meant  to  be  a  wife ;  but  I  am  quite  cer- 
tain I  was  meant  to  be  a  mother.  And  " — 
with  he/  peculiar,  bright,  humorous  look — 
"  you'd  be  astonished,  Miss  Leaf,  if  you  knew 
what  lots  of  'children  '  I  have  in  all  parts  of 
the  world." 

Miss  Balquidder  then  went  on  to  explain, 
that  finding,  from  her  own  experience,  how 
great  was  the  number,  and  how  sore  the  trial, 
of  young  women  who   nowadays  are  obliged 


business,  and  one  who  was  evident]}  quite 
accustomed  both  to  arrange  and  command, 
Miss  Balquidder  put  Hilary  through  a  sort  of 
extempore  arithmetical  catechism,  from  which 
she  came  oft'  with  flying  colors. 

"I  only  wish  there  were  moie  like  you.  I 
wish  there  were  more  young  ladies  brought  up 
like—" 

"  Like-boys  I"  said  Hilary,  laughing,  "  for 
I  always  used  to  say  that  was  my  cape." 

"  Xo,  I  nevei  desire  to  see  young  women 
made  into  men."  And  Miss  Balquidder  seem- 
ed a  little  scandalized.     "But  I  do  wish  girls 


to  work — obliged  to  forget  that  there  is  such|were  taught  fewer  accomplishments,  and  more 
a  thing  as  theblessed  priviledgeof  being  work- j reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic;  were  made 
ed  for— she  had  set  herself,  in  her  small  way,  as  accurate,  orderly,  and  able  to  help  them- 
to  try  and  help  them.     Her  pet  project  was  to  &elve.;  a  are.     But   to  business.     Will 

induce  educated  women  to  quit  the  genteel, you  take  the  management  of  my  stationer's 
starvation  of  governesships   for  some   good!shop?" 

trade,  thereby  bringing  higher  intelligence  in-  Hilary's  breath  came  hard  and  fast.  Much 
to  a  class  which  needed,  not  the  elevation  of  as  she  had  longed  for  work,  to  get  this  sort  of 
the  work  itself,  which  was  comparatively  easy  work — to  keep  a  stationer's  shop  ?  What 
and  refined,  but  of  the  workers.  She  had; would  her  sisters  say?  what  would  he  say  ? 
therefore  invested  sum  after  sum  of  her  capi-jBut  she  dared  not  think  of  that  just  now. 
tal  in  setting  up  various  small  shops  in  the,  "  How  much  should  I  be  able  to  earn,  do 
environs  of  London,  in  her  own  former  line, 'you  think?" 

and  others — stationers,  lace-shops,  etc. — trades!  Miss  Balquidder  considered  a  moment,  and 
whieh  could  be  well  carried  on  by  women. —  then  said,  rather  shortly,  for  it  was  not  exact- 
Into  the  management  of  these  she  put  as  ma-'ly  acting  on  her  own  principles  ;  she  knew  the 
ny  young  girls  as  she  could  find  really  fitted  pay  wasabove  the  work.  "  I  will  give  you  a 
for  it,  or  willing  to  learn,  paying  them  regular  hundred  a  year."' 


salaries,  large  or  small,  according  to  their  de- 
serts. 


A   hundred   a  year!  actually  certain,  and 
over  and  above  any  other  income.     It  seemed 


feelings    that 
The  good 

dear;  1   will 


"Fair  work,  fair  pay  ;  not  one  penny  more  a  fortune  to  poor  Hilary, 
or  less  ;  I  never  do  it;  it  would  not  be  honest. j     «  Will  you  give  me  a  dav  or  two  to  think 
I  overlook   each   business  myself,  and   it  islabon* it  and  consult  my  sisters?" 
carried  on  in  my  name.     Sometimes  it  brings:      gh  fc         .  fl      but   Miss  Balquidder 

me   in   a  little   profit;   sometimes  not.      ^  cou]d  ,e/how  aiitated  she  was  ;  how  she  eyi- 
course,"  she  added,  smiling,  "I  would  rather;den]v    stru_e]e^   with     manv 

have  profits  than   losses:  still,  I  balance  one,    «  ii  £„  u»k?."*.."LJ «.;♦!,  JL«< 

.    '     ,       ,,  ,..,'  ,,       would  be  beststrujrgleu  with,  alone, 

against  the  other,  and  it  leaves  me  generallv  a    igi    , 

i ■    •   .  r  ..  *       Did  Jiidv  rose. 

small    interest   for  mv  money — two  or   three, 

per  cent.,  which  is  ail  I  care  about.  Thus,  "  Take  .-vcmr.  0WD  am*>  ra-v  ^ear;  i  W1! 
you  see,  I  and  mv  voung  people  make  a  for  keep  the  situation  open  for  you  for  one  week 
bargain  on  both  side's;  it's  no  charitv.  1  don't  from  tfnadate.  And  now  I  must  send  you  a- 
beheve  in  charity."  wa?.  for  I  have  a  8real  denl  to  do- 

"Xo,"  said  Hilary,  feeling  her  spirit  rise.  They  parted,  quite  like  friends;  and  Hilary 
She  was  yet  young  enough,  yet  enough  .m>-  went  out,  walking  quickly,  feeling  neither  the 
worn  by. pie  fight  to  feel  the  deliciousr,esH  ofwind  nor  the  rain.  Yet  when  she  reached 
work— honest  work  for  honest  pay.  "I  thinkiNo.  15  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  enter, 
I  could  do  it,"  she  added.  "  I  think,  with  a|but  took  another  turn  or  two  round  the  Cres- 
little  practice,  I  really  could  keep  a  shop."     |cent,  trying  to  be  quite  sure  of  her  own  mind 

"At  all  events,  perhaps  vou  could  do  whatbefore  she  opened  the  matter  to  her  sisters.— 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


-,.:-. 


And  there  was  one  little  battle  to  be  fought 
which  the  sisters  did  know. 

It  was  perhaps  foolish,  seeing  she  did  not 
belong  to  him  in  any  open  way,  and  he  had 
no  external  right  over  her  life  or  lier  actions, 
that  she  should  go  back  and  back  to  the  ques- 
tion, ••  What  would  Robert  Lyon  say?" 

He  knew  she  earned  her  daily  bread  ;  some- 
times this  had  seemed  to  vex  and  annoy  him, 
but  it  must  be  done  :  and  when  a  thing  was 
inevitable,  it  was  not  Mr.  Lyon's  way  to  say 
much  about  it.  But  being  a  governess  was 
an  accredited  and  customary  mode  of  a  young 
lady's  earning  her  livelihood.  This  was  dif- 
ferent. If  he  should  think  it  too  public,  too 
unfeminine:  he  had  such  a  horror  of  a  woman's 
beirg  any  thing  but  a  woman,  as  strong  and 
brave  as  she  could,  but  in  a  womanly  way  ; 
doing  any  thing,  however  painful,  that  she  was 
obliged  to  do,  but  never  out  of  choice  or  bra- 
vado, or  the  excitement  of  stepping  out  of  her 
own  sphere  into  man's.  Would  Robert  Lyon 
think  leas  of  her,  Hilary,  because  she  had  to 
learn  to  take  care  of  herself,  to  protect  her- 
self, and  to  act  in  so  many  ways  for  herself, 
contrary  to  the  natural  and  right  order  of 
things  ?  That  old  order — God  forbid  it  should 
ever  change! — which  ordained  that  the  women 
should  be  "  keepers  at  home  ;"  happy  rulers 
of  that  happy  little  woild,  which  seemed  as 
far  oft' as  the  next  world  from  this  poor  Hilary. 

"What  if  he  should  look  down  upon  me? 
What  if  he  should  return  and  find  me  different 
from  what  he  expected?"  And  bitter  tears 
burned  in  her  eyes,  as  she  walked  rapidly  and 
passionately  along  the  deserted  street.  Then 
a  revulsion  came. 

•'No;  love  is  worth  nothing  that  is  not 
worth  every  thing,  and  to  be  trusted  through 
every  thing.  If  he  could  forget  me — couldXovz 
any  one  better  than  me — me  myself,  no  mat- 
ter what  I  was — ugly  or  pretty,  old  or  young, 
rich  or  poor — I  would  not  care  for  his  love.  It 
would  not  be  worth  my  having  ;  I'd  let  it  go. 
Robert,  though  it  broke  my  heart,  I'd  let  vou! 

go."  '    ! 

Her  eyes  flashed  ;  her  poor  little  hand* 
clenched  itself  under  her  shawl ;  and  then,  as 
a  half  reproach,  she  heard  in  fancy  the  steady 
loving  voice — which  could  have  calmed  her 
wildest  paroxysm  of  passion  and  pain — "You 
must  trust  me,  Hilary." 

Yes,  he  was  a  man  to  be  trusted.  No  doubt 
very  much  like  other  men,  and  by  no  means 
such  a  hero  to  the  world  at  large  as  this  fond 
girl  made  him  out  to  be:  but  Robert  Lyon 
had,  with  all  people,  and  under  all  circum-j 
stances,  the.  character  ot  reliableness.  He  had  i 
also — you  might  read  it  in  his  lace — a  quality 
equally  rare,  faithfulness.  Not  merely  sin- 
cerity, but  faithfulness;  the  power  of  conceiv- 
ing one  clear  purpose,  or  one  strong  love — in 
unity  of  strength — and  of  not  only  keeping 
true  to  it  at  the  time,  but  of  holding  fast  to  it 


with  a  single-minded  persistency  that  never 
even  takes  in  the  idea  of  voluntary  change,  as 
long  as  persistency  is  right  or  possible. 

"Robert,  Robert!"  sobbed  thisforlorn  girl, 
as  if  slowly  waking  up  to  a  sense  of  her  for- 
lorness,  and  of  the  almost  universal  fickleness, 
not  actual  falseness,  but  fickleness,  which  pre- 
vails in  the  world  and  among  mankind.  "0 
Robert,  be  faithful !  faithful  to  vourself—  faith- 
ful to  me!" 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

When  Miiss  Hilary  reached  home,  Eliza- 
beth opened  the  door  to  her;  the  parlor  was 
deserted. 

Miss  Leaf  had  gone  to  lie  down,  and  Miss 
Selina  was  away  to  see  the  Lord  Mayor's  Show 
with  Mr.  Peter  Ascott.  • 

"With  Mr.  Peter  Ascott!"  Hilary  was  a 
little  surprised :  but  on  second  thoughts  she 
found  it  natural;  Selina  was  glad  of  any  a- 
musement — to  her,  not  only  the  narrowness 
but  the  dullness  ef  their  poverty  was  inex- 
pressibly galling.  "  She  will  be  back  to  din- 
ner, I  suppose?" 

"I  don't  know,-"  said  Elizabeth  briefly. 

Had  Miss  Hilary  been  less  preoccupied,  she 
would  have  noticed  something  not  quite  right 
about  the  girl — something  that  at  any  other 
time  would  have  aroused  the  direct  question, 
"  What -is  the  matter,  Elizabeth  ?"  «For  Miss 
Hilary  did  not  consider  it  beneath  her  dignity 
to  observe  that  things  might  occasionally  go 
wrong  with  this  solitary  young  woman,  avvay 
from  her  friends,  and  exposed  to  all  the  an- 
noyances of  London 'lodgings  ;  that  many  tri- 
fles might  happen  to  worry  and  perplex  her. 
If  the  mistress  could  not  set  them  right,  she 
could  at  least  give  the  word^>f  kindly  sympa- 
thy, as  precious  to  "  a  poor  servant  "  as  to  the 
Queen  on  her  throne. 

This  time,  however,  it  came  not,  and  Eliza- 
beth disappeared  below  stairs  immediately. 

The  girl  was  revolving  in  her  own  mind  o 
difficult  ethical  question.  To-day.  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life,  she  had  not  "  told  Miss  Hila- 
ry every  thing."  Two  things  had  happened, 
and  she  could  not  make  up  her  mind  as  to 
whether  she  ought  to  communicate  them. 

Now  Elizabeth  had  a  conscience,  by  nature 
a  very  tender  one,  and  which,  from  circum- 
stances, had  been  cultivated  into  a  much  high- 
er sensitiveness  than,  alas  !  is  common  amon^ 
her  class,  or,  indeed,  in  any  class.  This,  if  an 
error,  was  Miss  Hilary's  doing  ;  it  probably 
caused  Elizabeth  a  few  more  miseries,  and 
vexations,  and  painful  shocks  in  the  world 
than  she  would  have  had  had  she  imbibed  on- 
ly the  ordinary  tone  of  morality,  especially  the 
morality  of  ordinary  domeetic  servants  ;  but 
it  was  an  error  upon  which,  in  summing  up 


54 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


her  life,  the  Recording  Angel   would  gravely 
smile. 


of  date,  and  perhaps   existing  only  in   stray 
nooks  of  the  world  ;  but   thank  God  !  it  does 


The   first  trial  bad  happened  at  breakfast! exist.     Hilary  had  it,  and   she  had   taught  it 
lime.      Ascott.    descending   earlier   than    hisjto  Elizabeth. 

went,    had    asked    her.  Did    any   gentleman.:     "  1  wonder  whether  Miss  Hilary  kncm 
short  and  dirty,   with  a  hoiked    nose,  inquire  this?     I  wonder  what  she  would  say  to  it  ?" 
for  him  yesterday  ?  And  now  arose  the  perplexing  ethical  ques- 

Elizabeth  thought  a  minute,  and  recollected  tion  aforesaid,  as  to  whether  Elizabeth  ought 
that  some  person  answering  the  above  not  too  to  tell  her. 

flattering  description   had  called,,  but  rt  it  was  one  of  Miss  Hilary's  doctrines— the 

to  leave  his  name,  saying  lie  did  not  know  the  same  for   the  kitchen  as  for  the    parlor,  nay, 
ladies,    but   was   a  particular   friend   of  Mr.  preached  sirongest  in    the  kitchen,  where  the 


Leaf's 

Ascott  laughed.  "  So  he  is — a  very  partic- 
ular friend ;  but  my  aur.ts  would  not  fancy 
him.  and  1  don't  want  him  to  come  here.  Say, 
if  he  calls,  that  I'm  gone  out  of  town." 

"  Very  well,  sir.  Shall  you  start  before 
dinner?"  taid  Elizabeth,  whose  practical  mind 


mysteries  of  the  parlor  are  often  so  cruelly 
exposed — that  a  secret,  accidentally  found  out 
should  be  kept  as  sacred  as  if  actually  confid- 
ed; also,  that  the  secret  of  an  enemy  should 
no  more  be  betrayed  than  that  of  a  beloved 
and  trusting  friend. 

Miss  Senna  isn't  my  enemy,"  smiled  E 


immediately  recurred  to  that  meal,  and  to  the'abeth  ;  "  but  I'm  not  overfond  of  her,  and  so 
joint,  always  contrived  to  be  hot  on  the  days!  I'd  rather  not  tell  of  her,  or  vex  hgr  if  I  can 
that  Ascott  dined  at  home.  jhelp  it.     Any  how,  I'll   keep   it  to  myself  for 

He  seemed   excessively  tiekled.      "  Blessja  bit." 


you,  you  are  the  greatest  innocent !  Just  say 
what  I  tell  you,  and  never  mind — hush!  here's 
Aunt  Hilary." 

And  Miss  Hilary's  anxious  face,  white  with 
long  wakefulness,  had  put  out  of  Elizabeth's 
head  the  answer  that  was  coming  :  indeed  the 
matter  slipped  from  her  mind  altogether,  in 
consequence  of  another  circumstance  which 
gave  her  much  more  perplexity. 

During  her  young  mistress's  absence,  sup- 
posing Miss  Selina  out  too,  and  Mi^ss  Leaf 
up  stairs,  she  had  come,  suddenly  into  the 
parlor  without  knocking.  There,  to  her  a- 
niazement,  she  saw  Miss  Selina  and  Mr.  As- 
cott standing,  in  close  c<  tion,  over  the 
fire.  They  were  so  engrossed  that  they  did 
not  notice  her.  and  she  shut  door  again  im- 
mediately. But  what  confounded  her  was, 
that  she  was  cer^in,  absolutely  certain,  Mr. 
Ascott  had  his  arm  round  Miss  Selina's  waist! 


But  the  secret  weighed  heavily  upon  her. 
and  besides,  her  honest  heart  felt  a  certain 
diminution  of  respect  for  Miss  Selina.  What 
could  she  see  to  like  hi  that  common  look 
commonplace  man,  whom  she  could  not  h 
met  a  dozen  times,  of  whose  domestic  life  she 
knew  nothing,  and  whose  personality  Eliza- 
beth, with  the  Aarp  observation  often  found 
in  her  class,  probably  because  coarse  people 
do  not  care  to  hide  their  coarseness  from  ser- 
vants, had  speedily  set  down  at  her  own  valu- 
ation— "Neither  carriage  nor  horses,  nor  no- 
thing, will  ever  make  him  a  gentleman  V 

He,  however,  sent  Miss  Selina  home  mag- 
nificently in  the  said  carriage:  Ascott  with 
her,  who  had  been  picked  up  somewhere  in 
the  City,  and  who  came  in  to  his  dinner,  with- 
out the  slightest  reference  to  going  "out  of. 
town." 

But  in  spite  of  her  Lord  Mayor's  Show,  and 


Now  that  was  no  business  of  hers,  and  yet  the  great  attention  which  she  said  she  had  re- 
the  faithful  domestic  wae  a  good  deal  troubled;  xeived    from  "various  members  of  the  Com- 
mon Council  of  the  City    of  London,"  Miss 
Selina  was.  for   her,  meditative,    and    did  not 
talk   quite  so   much  as  usual.     There  was  in 


still  more  so.  when,  by  Miss  Leaf's  exc 
surprise  at  hearing  of  the  visitor  who  had  come 
gone,  carrying 


and 


Miss  Selina  away  to  the 


city,  she  w;ts  certain  the  elder  sister  was  com-  the  little  parlor  an  uncomfortable  atmosphere, 
pletely  in    the  dark  as   to  any  thing  going  tolas  ifcall  of  them  had  something  on  their  minds. 


nappen  in  the  family. 

Could  it  be  a  wedding?  Could  Miss  Selina 
really  love,  and  be  intending  to  marry,  that 
horrid  little  man?  For  strange  to  say,  this 
young  servant  had.  what  many  a  young  beau- 
ty of  rank  and  fashion  has  not,  or  has  lost 
forever — the  true,  pure,  womanly  creed,  that 
loving  and  marrying  are  synonymous  terms  ; 
that  to  let  a  man  put  his  arm  round  your 
waist  when  you  do  not  intend  to  marry  him, 
or  to  intend  to  marry  him  for  money  or  any- 
thing else  when  you  do  not  really  love  him. 
are  things  quite  impossible  and  incredible  to 
any  womanly  mind.    A  creed  somewhat  out 


Hilary  felt  the  ice  must  be  broken,  and  if  she 
did  not  do  it  nobody  else  would.  !So  she  said, 
stealing  her  hand  into  Johanna's  under  shel- 
ter of  the  dim  fire-light, 

"Selina,  I  wanted  to  have  a  little  family 
consultation.     I  have  just  received  an  offer..' 

"An  offer!"  repeated  Miss  Selina,  with  a 
visible  start.  "  Oh.  I  forgot :  you  went  to  see 
your  friend,  Miss  Balquidder,  this  morning. 
Did  you  get  any  thing  out  of  her?  Has  she 
any  nephews  and  nieces  wanting  a  governess?" 

"She  has  no  relations  at  all.  But  I  will 
just  tell  you  the  story  of  my  visit." 

"  I  kope  it's  interesting,"  said  Ascott,  who 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


55 


was  lying  on  the  Kofa,  b,alf  asleep,  his  general  "  You  don't  care,  then,  what  becomes  of  us 
habit  after  dinner.  He  woke,  however,  dur-  all  ?  I  sometimes  begin  to  think  so." 
ing  his  Aunt  Hilary's  relation,  and  when  she  Struck  by  tl>e  tone,  Ascott  stopped  in  the  act 
reached  its  climax,  that  the  odor  was  for  her  of  putting  on  his  lilac  kid  gloves.  "What 
to  manage  a  stationer's  shop,  he  burst  out  have  I  done?  I  may  be  a  verv  bad  fellow,  but 
heartily  laughing;  I'm  not  quite 80  bad  as  tkat.  Aunt  Hilary." 

"  Well,  that  is  a  rich  idea.     I'll  come  and      "She didn't  mean    it,  my  boy,"  said  Aunt 
buy  Of  yon.     You'll   look  so    pretty  standing  Johanna,  tenderly, 
behind  a  counter.''  I     He  was  moved,  more  by  the  tenderness  than 

But  Selinasaid.  angrily,  '"You  cannot  evendbe  reproach.     He  came  and  kissed  his  eldest 

think  of  such  a  thing.     It  would  be  a  disgrace  aunt  in  that   warm-hearted,   impulsive   way, 

lie  family."  'which  had  won   him    forgiveness,  for  ma»y  a 

'•No,"  said  Hilary,  clasping  tightly  her]  boyish  fault.  It  did  so  now. 
eldest  sister's  hand — they  two  had  already!  "  I  know  I'm  not  half  good  enough  to  you, 
talked  the  matter  over:  "lean  not  see  any  Auntie,  but  I  mean  to  be.  I  mean  to  work 
disgrace.  If  ©ur  family  is  so  poor  that  the  hard,  and  be  a  rich  man  some  day  ;  and  then 
women  must  earn  their  living  as  well  as  the  you  may  be  sure  I  shall  not  let  my  Aunt.  Hil- 
men,  all  we  have  to  see  is  that  it  should  be  ary  keep  ashop.  Now,  good-night,  for  I  must 
hone-  ied.     What  do  you  say,  Ascott?'' meet  a  fellow  ou  business — really  business — 

She  looked  earnestly  at  him ;  she  wanted  that  may  turn  out  good  for  us  all,  I  assure 
BOnHy  to  find  out  what  he  really  thought.  you." ' 

But  Ascott  took  it,  as  he  did  everything,  He  went  away  whistling,  with  that  air  of 
•  ery  easily.  "  1  d»n't  see  why  Aunt  Selina  untroubled,  good-natured  liveliness  peculiar  to 
should  make  such  a  fuss.  Why  need  you  doi  Ascott  Leaf,  which  made  them  say  continual- 
anything.  Aunt  Hilary?  Can't  we  hold  outa  ly  that  he  was  "only  a  boy,"  living  a  boy'6 
little  longer,  and  live  upon  tick  till  I  get  into1  life,  as  thoughtless  and  as  free.  When  his 
practice?  Of  course,  I  shall  then  take  care  of' handsome  face  disappeared  the  three  women 
you  all :  I'm  the  head  of  the  family.  Howisat  down  ag^n  round  the  fire, 
horribly  dark  this  room  is !"  They  made  no  comments  on  him  whatever; 

He  started  up.  and  gave  the  fir*  a  fierce  they  were  women,  and  he  was  their  own.  But 
poke,  which  consumed  in  five  minutes  a  large — passing  him  over  as  if  he  had  never  existed 
lump  of  coal  that  Hilary  ha'd  hoped — oh, — Hilary  began  to  explain  to  her  sisters  all 
cruel,  sordid  economy — would  have  lasted  half  particulars  of  her  new  scheme  for  maintaining 
the  evening.  the  family.     She  told  these  details  in  a  matter 


She  broke  the  uneasy  silence  which  follow- 
ed by  asking  Johanna  to  give  her  opinion. 

Johanna  roused  herself  and  spoke: 

"  Ascott  says  right :  he   is  the  head  of  the'na.  with  dignity, 
family,  and,  by-and-by,  I  trust  will   take  care,     "  Why  impossible?     I  can  certainly  do  the 
of  us  all.     Bur,  he  is  not  able  to  doit  now,  and. work  ;  and  it  can  not  make  me  less  of  a  lady. 


of-fact  way,  as  already  arranged  ;  and  finally 
hoped  Selina  would  make  no  more  objections. 
"  It  is  a  thing  quite  impossible,"  said  Seli- 


mear.time  we  must  live. 

"  To  be  sure,  we  must,  Auntie." 


Besides,  we  had  better  not  be  ladies  if  we  can 
not  be   honest  ones.     And,   Selina,   where  in 


"1  mean,  my  boy,  we  must  live  honestly  :!the  money  to  come  from  ?  We  have  none  in 
we  must  not  run  into  debt:"  and  her  voice  the  house:  we  can  not  get  any  till  Christmas." 
sharpened  as  with  the  reflected  horror  of  herl  "Opportunities  might  occur.  We  have 
young  days — if,  alas !  there  ever  had  been  any 'friends." 

youth  for  Henry  Leaf's  eldest  daughter.  "No,'  "Not  one  in  London  :  except,  perhaps.  Mr. 
Ascott,  out  ofdeblout  of  danger.  Formyself"  Ascott,  and  I  would  not  ask  him  for  a  farthing. 
— she  laid  her  thin  old  fingers  on  his  arm,  and  You  don't  see,  Selina,  how  horrible  it  would 
looked  up  at  him  with  a  pitiful  mixture  of  re-  he  to   be  helped,   unl  -ome  one  dearly 

liance  and  hopelessness — "  I  would  rather  see  loved.  I  couldn't  bear  it!  I'd  rather  beg, 
vou  breaking   stones  in   the  road  than  living  starve :  almost  steal !" 


like  a  gentleman,  as  you  call  it,  and    a  swind- 
ler, as  I  call  it,  upon  other  people's  money." 
Ascott  sprang  up,  coloring  violently.     "You 


'Don't  be  violent,  child." 
Mill,  but  it's  hardl"  and  the.  cry  of  long- 
smothered  pain  burst  out.     "Hard  enough  to 


trong  language,  Aunt  Johanna.  Never  have  to  earn  one's  bread  in  a  way  one  doesn't 
mind,  [daresay  vou  are  right.  BOwever.  like;  harder  still  to  have  to  be  parted  from 
it's  do  bi  of  mine.     Good-night,  for  I  Johanna  from  Monday  morning  till  Saturday 

have  an  engagement."  night.     But  it  must  be.     I'll  go.     It's  a  case 

Hilary  said,  gravely,  she    wished   he  would  between  hunger,  debt,  and  work  :  the   first  is 
stay  and  join  in  the  family  consult;  un]  econd   impossible,  the  third 

"Oh  no:  I  hate  talking  over  things.     Settle  is  my  only    alternative.     You   must  consent, 
it  among  yourselves.     As  I   said,  it  isn't  my  Selina,  for  I  tcill do  it." 
business."  "  Don't  1"    Selina  spoke,  more  gently,  and 


56 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


riot  without  some  natural  emotion.  "  Don't 
disgrace  me,  child ;  for  I  may  as  well  tell  you 
— I  meant  to  do  so  to-night — Mr.  Ascott  has 
made  me  an  offer  of  marriage,  and  1 — I  have 
accepted  it." 

Had  a  thunder-bolt  fallen  in  the  middle  of 
the  parlor  at  No.  15,  its  inmates — that  is,  two 
of  them — could  not  have  been  more  astound- 
ed. 

No  doubt  this  surprise  was  a  great  instance 
of  simplicity  on  their  part.  Many  women | 
would  have  prognosticated,  planned  the  thing! 
from  the  first:  thought  it  a  most  excellent! 
match;  seen  glorious  visions  of  the  house  in 
Kussell  Square,  of  the  wealth  and  luxury  that 
would  be  the  portion  of  "  dear  Selina,"  and, 
the  general  benefit  that  the  marriage  would  be 
to  the  whole  Leaf  family. 

But  these  two  were  different  from  others.; 
They  only  saw  their  sister  Selina,  a  woman 
ho  longer  young,  and  not  without  her  peculi-| 
arities,  going  to  be  married  to  a  man  she  knew 
little  or  nothing  about — a  man  whom  they 
themselves  had  endured  rather  than  liked,  and 
for  the  sake  of  gratitude.  He  was  trying 
enough  merely  as  a  chance  visitor ;  but  to 
look  upon  Mr.  Ascott  as  a  brother-in-law,  as 
a  husband — 

"Oh,  Selina!  you  can  not  be  in  earnest?" 

"  Why  not  ?  Why  should  I  not  be  married 
as  well  as  my  neighbors?"  said  she,  sharply. 

Nobody  arguing  that  point,  both  being  in- 
deed too  bewildered  to  argue  at  all,  she  con- 
tinued, majestically, 

"  J  assure  you,  sisters,  there  could  not  be  a 
more  unexceptionable  offer.  It  is  true,  Mr. 
Aecott's  origin  was  rather  humble  ;  but  I  can 
overlook  that.  In  his  present  wealth,  and 
with  his  position  and  character,  he  will  make 
the  best  of  husbands." 

Not  a  word  was  answered  ;  what  could  be 
answered?  Selina  was  free  to  marry  if  she 
liked,  and  whom  she  liked.  Perhaps,  from 
her  nature,  it  was  idle  to  expect  her  to  marry 
in  any  other  way  than  this;  one  of  the  thous- 
and and  one  unions  where  the  man  desires  a 
handsome,  lady-like  wife  for  the  head  of  his 
establishment,  and  the  woman  wishes  an  ele- 
gant establishment  to  be  mistrees  of;  so  they 
strike  a  bargain — possibly  as  good  as  most 
other  bargain*. 

Still,  with  one  faint  lingering  of  hope,  Hila- 
ry asked  if  she  had  quite  decided. 

"Quite.  He  wrote  to  me  last  night,  and  I 
gave  him  his  an- 

ina certainly  had  not  troubled  anybody 
with  her  "love  affairs."  It  was  entirely  a 
matter  of  business. 

The  sisters  saw  at  once  that  she  had  made 
up  her  mind.  Henceforward  there  could  be 
no  criticism  of  Mr.  Peter  Ascott. 

Now  all  was  told,  she  talked  freely  of  her 
excellent  prospects. 

"  He  had  behaved  handeomely-r-very  much 


so.  He  makes  a  good  settlement  on  me,  and 
says  how  happy  he  will  be  to  help  my  family, 
so  as  to  enable  you  always  to  make  a  respeet- 
able  appearance." 

"  We  are  exceedingly  obliged  to  him." 

"  Don't  be  sharp,  Hilary.  He  means  well. 
And  he  must  feel  that  this  marriage  is  a  sort 
of — ahem  !  condescension  on  my  part,  which 
1  never  should  have  dreamed  of  twenty  years 
ago." 

Selina  sighed  ;  could  it  be  at  the  thought  of 
that  twenty  years  ago?  Perhaps,  shallow  as 
she  seemed,  this  woman  might  once  have  had 
some  fancy,  some  ideal  man  whom  she  ex- 
pected to  meet  and  marry  ;  possibly  a  very 
different  sort  of  man  from  Mr.  Peter  Ascott. 
However,  the  sigh  was  but  momentary  :  she 
plunged  back  again  into  all  the  arrangements 
of  her  wedding,  every  one  of  which,  down  to 
the  wedding-dress,  she  had  evidently  decided. 

"  And  therefore  you  see,"  she  added,  as  if 
the  unimportant,  almost  forgotten  item  of  dis- 
cussion had  suddenly  occurred  to  her,  "  it's 
quite  impossible  that  my  sister  should  keep  a 
shop.  I  shall  tell  Mr.  Ascott,  and  you  will 
see  what  he  says  to  it." 

But  when  Mr.  Ascott  appeared  next  day  in 
solemn  state  as  an  accepted  lover  he  seemed 
to  care  very  little  about  the  matter.  He  thought 
it  was  a  good  thing  for  every  body  to  be  in- 
dependent; did  not  see  why  young  women — 
he  begged  pardon,  young  ladies — should  not 
earn  their  own  bread  if  they  liked.  He  only 
wished  that  the  shop  were  a  little  further  off 
jthan  Kensington,  and  hoped  the  name  of 
[Leaf  would  not  be  put  over  the  door. 

But  the  bride-elect,  indignant  and  annoyed. 
Jbegged  her  lover  to  interfere,  and  prevent  the 
Ischeme  from  being  carried  out. 

"Don't  vex  yourself,  my  dear  Selina,"  said 
He,  dryly — how  Hilary  started  to  hear  this 
s'ranger  use  the  household  name — "but  I 
can't  see  that  it's  my  business  to  interfere.  I 
marry  you ,  I  don't  marry  your  whole  family." 

"  Mr.  Ascott  is  quite  right ;  we  will  end  the 
subject,'*  said  Johanna,-  with  grave  dignity: 
while  Hilary  sat  with  burning  cheeks,  think- 
ing that,  miserable  as  the  family  hail  been,  it 
had  never  till  now  known  real  degradation. 

But  her  heart  was  very  sore  that  day.  In 
the  morning  had  come  the  letter  from  India, 
never  omitted,  never  delayed  ;  Robert  Lyon 
was  punctual  as  clock-work  in  every  thing  he 
did.  It  came,  but  this  month  it.  was  a  abort 
I  Bomewhat  sad   letter — hinting  tog 

[.health,  uncertain  prospects:  full  of  a  bitter 
longing  to  come  home,  and  a  dread  that  it 
would  be  years  before  that  longing  was  real 

ized. 

"My  only  consolation  >."'  he  wrote,  tor 
once  betraying himself  a  little,  "  that  however 
hard  my  life  out,  here  may  be,  1  bear  it  alone." 

But  that  consolation  was  not  so  easy  to  Hil- 
ary.   That  they  two  should  be  wasting  their 


MISTRESS  AND|MAID. 


5T 


youth  apart,  when  just  a  little  heap  of  yellow 
coins — of  which  men  like  Mr.  Ascott  had 
such  profusion — would  bring  them  together; 
and,  let  trials  be  many  or  poverty  hard,  give 
them  the  unutterable  jo,'  of  being  once  more 
f:ice  to  face  and  heart  to  heart — oh,  it  was 
sore,  sore  ! 

5  et  when  she  went  np  from  the  parlor, 
«rhere  the  newly-affianced  couple  sat  together, 
•'  making-believe  "  a  passion  that  did  not  ex- 
ist, and  acting  out  the  sham  courtship,  proper 
for  the  gentleman  to  pay  and  the  lady  to  re- 
ceive— when  she  shut  her  bedroom  door,  and 
there,  sitting  in  the  cold,  read  again  and  again 
Robert  Lyon's  letter  to  Johanna,  so  good,  so 
honest;  so  sad,  yet  so  bravely  enduring — Hil- 
ary was  comforted.  She  felt  that  true  love, 
in  its  most  unsatisfied  longings,  its  most  cruel 
delays,  nay,  even  its  sharpest  agonies  of  hope- 
less separation,  is  sweeter  ten  thousand  times 
than  the  most  "respectable"  of  loveless  mar- 
riages such  as  this. 

So,  at  the  week's  end,  Hilary  went  patient- 
ly to  her  work  at  Kensington,  and  Selina  began 
the  preparations  for  her  wedding. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


In  relating  so  much  about  her  mistresses,  I 
have  lately  seemed  to  overlook  Elizabeth 
Hand. 

She  was  a  person  easy  enough  to  be  over- 
looked. She  never  jgit  herself  forward,  not 
even  now,  when  Miss  Hilary's  absence  caused 
the  weight  of  housekeeping  and  domestic  man- 
agement to  fall  chiefly  upon  her.  She  went 
about  her  duties  as  soberly  and  silently  as  she 
had  done  in  her  girlhood ;  even  Miss  Leaf 
could  not  draw  her  into  much  demonstrative 
ness  :  she  was  one  of  those  people  who  never 
"come  out"  till  they  are  strongly  needed, 
and  then —  Imt  it  remained  to  be  proved 
what  this  gtol  would  be. 

Years  afterward  Hilary  remembered  with 
what  a  curious  reticence  Elizabeth  used  to  go 
about  in  those  davs :  how  she  remained  as  old- 
fashioned  as  ever  ;  acquired  no  London  ways 
no  fripperies  of  dress  or  flippancies  of  manner. 
Also,  that  she  never  complained  of  anything  ; 
though  the  discomforts  of  her  lodging-house 
life  must  have  been  great — greater  than  her 
mistresses  had  any  idea  of  at  the  time.  Slow- 
ly, out  of  her  rough,  unpliant  girlhood,  was 
forming  that  character  of  self-reliance  and 
self-control,  which,  in  all  ranks,  makes  of  some 
women  the  helpers  rather  than  the  helped, 
the  laborers  rather  .than  the  pleasure-seekers; 
women  whose  constant  lot  it  seems  to  be  to 
walk  on  the  shadowed  side  of  life,  to  endure 
rather  than  to  enjoy. 

Elizabeth  had  very  little  actual  enjoyment. 
She  made  no  acquaintances,  and  never  aaked|to  her  enemies. 


for  holidays.  Indeed  she  did  not  seem  to  care 
for  any.  Her  great  treat  was  when,  on  a 
Sunday  afternoon,  Miss  Hilary  sometimes 
took  her  to  Westminster  Abbey  or  St.  Paul's; 
when  her  pleasure  and  gratitude  always  struck 
her  mistress — nay,  even  soothed  her,  and  won 
her  from  her  own  many  anxieties.  It  is  such 
a  blessing  to  be  able  to  make  any  other  human 
being,  even  for  an  hour  or  two,  entirely  happy. 

Except  these  bright  Sundays,  Elizabeth's 
whole  time  was  spent  in  waiting  uppn  Miss 
Leaf,  who  had  seemed  to  grow  suddenly  frail 
and  old.-  It  might  be  that  living  without  her 
child  six  day1-'  out  of  the  seven  was  a  greater 
trial  than  had  at  first  appeared  to  the  elder 
sister,  who  until  now  had  never  parted  with 
her  since  she  was  born  ;  or  it  was  perhaps  a 
more  commonplace  and  yet  natural  cause,  the 
living  in  London  lodgings,  without  even  a 
change  of  air  from  room  to  room ;  and  the 
want  of  little  comforts  and  luxuries,  which, 
with  all  Hilary's  care,  were  as  impossible  as 
ever  to  their  limited  means. 

For  Selina's  engagement,  which,  as'a  mat- 
ter of  decorum,  she  had  insisted  should  last 
six  months,  did  not  lewen  expenses.  Old 
gowns  were  shabby,  and  omnibuses  impossible 
to  the  future  Mrs.  Ascott  of  Russell  Square; 
and  though,  to  do  her  justice,  she  spent  as  lit- 
tle as  to  her  self- pleasing  nature  was  possible, 
still  she  spent  something. 

"  It's  the  last ;  I  shall  never  cost  you,  any 
more,"  she  would  say,  complacently ;  and  re- 
vert to  that  question  of  absorbing  interest,  her 
trousseau,  an  extremely  handsome  one,  provid- 
ed liberally  by  Mr.  Ascott.  Sorely  had  this 
arrangement  jarred  upon  the  pride  of  the  Leaf 
family;  yet  it  was  inevitable.  But  no  per- 
sonal favors  would  the  other  two  sisters  have 
accepted  from  Mr.  Ascott,  even  had  he  offered 
them — which  he  did  not — save  a  dress  each 
for  th«  marriage,  and  a  card  for  the  marriage 
breakfast,  which,  he  also  arranged,  was  to 
take  place  at  a  hotel. 

So,  in  spite  of  the  expected  wedding,  there 
was  little  change  in  the  dull  life  that  went  on 
at  No.  15.  Its  only  brightness  was  when 
Miss  Hilary  came  home  from  Saturday  to 
Monday.  And  in  those  brief  glimpses,  when, 
as  was  natural,  she  on  her  side,  and  they  on 
theirs,  put  on  their  best  face,  so  to  speak,  each 
trying  to  hide  from  the  other  any  special  care, 
it  so  fell  out  that  Miss  Hilary  never  discover- 
ed a  thing  which,  week  by  week,  Elizabeth 
resolved  to  speak  to  her  about,  and  yet  never 
could.  For  it  was  not  her  own  affair ;  it 
seemed  like  presumptuously  meddling  in  the 
affairs  of  the  family.  Above  all,  iUinvolved 
the  necessity  of  something  which  looked  like 
tale-bearing  and  backbiting  of  a  person  she 
disliked,  and  there  was  in  Elizabeth — servant 
as  she  was — an  instinctive  chivalrous  honor 
which  made  her  especially  anxious  to  be  just 


58 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


Enemy,  however,  is  a  large  word  to  use ; 
and  yet  day  by  Jay  her  feelings  grew  more 
bitter  toward  the  person  concerned — namely. 
Mr.  Aseott  Leaf.  It  was  not  from  any  badness 
in  him  :  he  was  the  sort  of  young  man  always 
likely  to  be  a  favorite  with  what  would  be 
termed  his  "  inferiors  ;''  easy,  good-tempered, 
and  gentlemanly,  giving  a  good  deal  of  trou: 
ble  certainly,  but  giving  it  so  agreeably  that 
few  servants  would  have  grumbled,  and  pay- 
ing for  it — as  he  apparently  thought  every 
thing  could  be  paid  for — with  a  pleasant  word 
and  a  handful  of  silver. 

But  Elizabeth's  distaste  ibr  him  had  deeper 
roots.  The  principal  one  was  his  exceeding 
indifference  to  his  aunts'  affairs,  great  and 
small,  from  thp  marriage,  wlii.ch  he  briefly 
designated  as  a  ''jolly  lark,"  to  the  Sharp 
economies  which,  even  with  the  addition  of, 
Miss  Hilary's  salary,  were  still  requisite. — 
None  of  these  latter  did  he  ever  seem  to  notice, 
except  when  they  pressed  upon  himself;  when 
he  neither  scolded  nor.  Argued,  but  simply 
went  out  and  avoided  them. 

He  was  now  absent  from  home  more  than 
ever,  and  apparently  tried  as  much  as  possible 
to  keep  the  household  in  the  dark  as  to  his 
movements — leaving  at  uncertain  times,  never 
saying  what  hour  he  would  be  back,  or  if  he 
said  so,  never  keeping  to  his  word.  This  was 
the  more  annoying  as  there  were  a  number  of 
people  continually  inquiring  for  him,  hanging 
about  the  house,  and  waiting  to  see  him  "  on 
Business;"  and  some  of  these  occasionally 
commented  on  the  young  gentleman  in  such 
unflattering  terms  that  Elizabeth  was  afraid 
they  would  reach  the  ear  of  Mrs.  Jones,  and 
henceforward  tried  always  to  attend  to  the 
door  herself. 

But  Mrs.  Jones  was  a  wide-awake  woman. 
She  had  not  let  lodgings  foi  thirty  yea1 
nothing.  Ere  long  she  discovered,  and  took 
good  care  to  inform  Elizabeth  of  her  discove- 
ry, that  Mr.  Aseott  Leaf  was  what  is  euphuist- 
ically  termed  "  in  difficulties." 

And  here  one  word,  lest  in  telling  this  poor 
lad's  story  I  may  be  supposed  to  tell  it  harsh- 
ly or  uncharitably,  as  if  there  was  no  crime 
greater  than  that  which  a  large  portion  of  so- 
ciety seems  to  count  as  none;  as  if,  at  the 
merest  mention  of  the  ugly  word  debt,  this 
rabid  author  flew  out,  and  made  all  the  ultra- 
virtuous  persons  whose  history  is  here  told, 
tly  out,  like  turkeys,  after  a  bit  of  red  cloth, 
which  is  a  veiy  harmless  scrap  of  red  cloth 
alter  all. 

Most  true,  some  kind  of  J  only 

compassion.  The  merchant  suddenly  tailing: 
the  ten  rlerly  reared  famil y  who  by  some  strange 
blunder  or  unkind  kindness  have  been  kept 
in  ignorance  of  their  real  circumstances,  and 
been  spending  pounds  for  which  there  was 
only  pence  to  pay  ;  the  individuals,  men  or 
ivomenj  who,  without  any  laxity  of  principle, 


are  such  utter  children  in  practice,  that  they 
have  to  learn  the  value  and  use  of  money  by 
hard  experience,  much  as  a  child  does,  and  are 
little  better  than  children  in  all  that  concerns 
l.  s.  i>.  to  the  end  of  their  days. 

But  these  are  debtors  by  accident,  not  error. 
The  deliberate  debtor,  who  orders  what  he 
knows  he  has  no  means  of  paying  for:  the 
pleasure-loving  debtor,  who  can  not  renounce 
one  single  luxury  for  conscienee'  sake  :  the 
well-meaning,  lazy  debtor,  who  might  make 
"ends  meet,''  but  does  not,  simply  because  he 
will  not  take  the  trouble ;  upon  such  as  these 
it  is  right  to  have  no  mercy — they  deserve 
none. 

To  which  of  these  classes  young  Aseott  Leaf 
belonged  bis  story  will  show.  I  tell  it,  or 
rather  let  it  tell  itself,  and  point  its  own  moral; 
it  is  the  story  of  hundreds  and  thousands. 

That  a  young  fellow  should  not  enjoy  his 
youth  would  be  hard  ;  that  it  should  not  be 
pleasant  to  him  to  dress  well,  live  well,  and 
spend  with  open  hand  upon  himself  as  wel! 
as  others,  no  one  will  question.  No  one  would 
ever  wish  it  otherwise.  Many  a  kindly  spend- 
thrift of  twenty-one  makes  a  prudent  paterfa- 
milias at  forty,  while  a  man  who  in  his  twen- 
ties showed  a  purposeless  niggardliness,  would 
:  sixty  grow  into  the  most  contemptible  miser 
alive.  There  is  something  even  in  the  thought- 
less liberality  of  youth  to  which  one's  heart 
warms,  even  while  one's  wisdom  reproves. — 
But  what  struck  Elizabeth  was  that  Ascott's 
liberalities  were  always  toward  himself,  and 
himself  only. 

Sometimes  when  she  took  in  a  parcel  of 
new  clothes,  while  others  yet  unpaid  for  were 
tossing  in  wasteful  disorder  about  his  room, 
or  when  she  cleaned  indefinite  pairs  of  hand- 
some boots,  and  washed  dozens  of  the  finest 
cambric  pocket-handkerchiefs,  her  spirit  grew 
hot  within  her  to  remember  Miss  Hilary's 
countless  wants  and  contrivances  in  the  matter 
of  dress,  and  all  the  little  domestic  comforts 
which  Miss  Leaf's  frail  .health*  required — 
things  which  never  once  seemed  to  cross  the 
nephew's  imagination.  Of  course  not,  it  will 
be  said  :  how  could  a  young  man  be  expected 
to  trouble  himself  about  these  things? 

But  they  do  though.  Answer,  many  a  wid- 
ow's son  :  many  a  heedful  brother  of  orphan 
sisters;  many  a  solitary  clerk  living  and  pay- 
in  •:  his  way  upon  the  merest  pittance  ;  is  it 
not  better  to  think  of  others  than  one's  self? 
Can  a  man,  even  a  young  man,  find  his  high- 
est happiness  in  mere  personal  enjoyment? 

However,  let  me  cease  throwing  these  peb- 
bles of  preaching  under  the  wheels  of  my  sto- 
rv  :  as  it  moves  on  it  will  preach  enough  for 
itself. 

Elizabeth's  annoyances,  suspicions,  and  con- 
science-pricks as  to  whether  she  ought  or 
ought  not  to  communicate  both,  came  to  an 
end  at  last.     Gradually  she  made  up  her  raiud 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


59 


that,  even  if  it  did  look  like  tale-bearing,  on 
the  following  Saturday  night  Miss  Hilary 
must  know  all. 

It  was  an  anxious  week;  for  Miss  Leaf  had 
fallen  ill.  Not  seriously:  and  she  never  Com- 
plained until  her  sister  had  left,  when  she  re- 


his  hat  slouched,  so  as  in  some  measure  to 
act  as  a  disguise,  breathless  and  trembling — 
hardly  any  body  would  have  recognized  in 
this  discretitable  object  that  gentlemanly 
young  man,  Mr.  Ascott  Leaf. 

He  staggered  into  his  room  and  threw  him- 


turned  to  her  bed  and  did  not  again  rise.     She  self  across  the  bed. 


would  not  have  Miss  Milarv  sent  for,  nor  Miss 
Selina,  who  was  away  paying  a  ceremonious 
pre-nuptial  visit  to  Mr.  Ascott's  partner's  wife 
at  Dulwich. 

"  I  don't  want  any  thing  that  you  can  not  do 
for  me.  You  are  becoming  a. first-rate  nurse, 
Elizabeth,"  she  said,  with  that  passive,  peace- 
ful smile  which  almost  frightened  the  girl ;  it 
seemed  as  if  she  were  slipping  away  from  this 
worlu  and  all  its  cares  into  another  existence. 


"  Do  you  want  any  thing,  Sir?"  said  Eliza- 
beth, from  the  door. 

"  No — yes — stay  a  minute.  Elizabeth,  are 
you  to  be  trusted  ?" 

"  I  hope  I  am,  Sir." 

"  The  bailiffs  are  after  me.  I've  just  dodg- 
ed them.  If  they  know  I'm  here  the  game's 
all  up — and  it  will  kill  my  aunt." 

Shocked  as  she  was,  Elizabeth  was  glad  to 
hear  him  sav  that-  slad  to   see  the  burst  of 


Elizabeth  felt  that  to  tell  her  any  thing  about! real  emotion  with  which  lie*' flung  himself 
her  nephew's'affairs  was  perfectly  impossible. |down  on  the  pillow,  muttering  all  sorts  of 
How  thankful  she  was  that  in  the  }tuet  of  thejhopeless  self-accusations, 
sick-room  her  mistress  was  kept  in  ignorance!  "  Come,  Sir,  'tis  no  use  taking  on  so,"  said 
of  the  knocks  and  inquiries  at  the  door,  and  she,  much  as  she  would  have  spoken  to  a 
especially  of  a  certain  ominous  paper  which  child,  for  there  was  something  childish  rather 
had  fallen  into  Mrs.  Jones's  hands,  and  in-ithan  man-like  in  Ascott's  distress.  Neverthe- 
lormed  her,  as  she  took  good  care  to  inform 'less,  she  pitied  him,  with  the  unreasoning  pity 
Elizabeth,  that  any  day  '■  the  bailiffs"  might  a  kind  heart  gives  to  hny  creature,  who, 
be  after  her  young  master.  blameworthy  or  not,  has  fallen  into  trouble. 

"And  the  sooner  the  whole  set  of  you  clear1  "What  do  you  mean  to  do?" 
out  of  my  house  the  better;  I   am   a  decent,        "Nothing.      I'm    cleaned    out.      And    I 
respectable   woman,"  said   Mrs.  Jones,  that  haven't  a  friend  in  the  world." 
very  morning;  and  Elizabeth  had  had  to  beg      He  turned  his  face  to  the  wall  in 


her  as  a  favor  not  to  disturb  her  sick  mistress, 
but  to  wait  one  day,  till  Miss  Hilary* came 
home.  , 

Also,  when  Ascott,  ending  with  a  cheerful 
and  careless  countenance  his  ten  minutes'  af- 
ter-breakfast chat  in  his  aunt's  room,  bad  met 
Elizabeth  on  the  staircase,  he  had  stopped  to 
bid  her  say  if  any  body  wanted  him  he  was 
gone  to  Birmingham,  and  would  not  be  home 
till  Monday.  And  on  Elizabeth's  hesitating, 
she  having  determined  to  tell  no  more  of  these 
involuntary  lies,  he  had  been  very  angry,  and 
then  stooped  to  entreaties,  begging  her  to  do 
as  he  asked,  or  it  would  be  the  ruin  of  him. 
Which  she  understood  well  enough  when,  all 
the  day,  she — grown  painfully  wise,  poor  girl! 

— watched   a    Jewish-looking    man    hanging  at  the  least  relief.     "That  will   be  capital 
about  the  house,  and  noticing  every  body  that  Gret  me  a  good  slice  of  beef,  or  ham,  or  some- 


perfect  ~ 
despair. 

Elizabeth  tried  hard  not  to  sit  in  judgment 
upon  what  the  catechism  would  call  her  "bet- 
ters ;"  and  yet  her  own  strong  instinct  of  al- 
most indefinite  endurance  turned  with  some- 
thing approaching  contempt  from  this  weak, 
lightsome  nature,  broken  by  the  first  touch  of 
calamity.  \ 

"  Come,  it's  no  use  making  things  worse 
than  they  are.  If  no  body  knows  that  you 
are  here,  lock  your  door  and  keep  quiet.  I'll 
bring  you  some  dinnei  when* I  bring  up  Missis' 
tea,  and  not  even  Mrs.  Jones  will  be  any  the 
wiser." 

"  You're    a   brick,    Elizabeth — a  regular 
brick!"  cried  the  young  fellow,  brightening  up 


went  in  or  out  of  it 

Now,  sitting  at  Miss  Leaf's  window,  she 
fancied  she  saw  this  man  disappear  into  the 
gin-palace  opposite,  and  at  the  same  moment 
a  figure  darted  hurriedly  round  the  street  cor- 
ner, and  into  the  door  of  No.  15. 


thing.     And  mind  you,  don't  forget !- 
lar  stunning  bottle  of  pale»ale." 
"  Very  well,  Sir." 

The  acquiescence  was  somewhat  sullen,  and 
had  he  watched  Elizabeth's  face  he  might 
have  seen  there  an  expression  not  too  flatter- 
Elizabeth  looked  to  see  if  her  mistress  were  ing.  But  she  faithfully  brought  him  his  din- 
asleep,  and  then  crept  quietly  out  of  the  room,  ner,  and  kept  his  secret,  even  though,  hearing 
shutting  the  door  after  her.  Listening,  she  from  over  the  staircase  Mrs.  Jones  resolutely 
heard  the  sound  of  the  latch-key,  and  of  some  deny  that  Mr.  Leaf  had  been  at  home  since 
one  coming  stealthily  up  stairs.  j morning,  she   felt  very  much  as  if  she  were 

"Hollo! — Oh,  it's  only  you,  Elizabeth."       conniving  at  a   lie.     With    a   painful,  half- 
"  Shall  I  light  your  candle,  sir?"  .  guilty  consciousness  she  waited  for  her  mis- 

But  when  she  did  the  sight  was  not  pleasant.  I  tress's  usutf^ue&tion,  "  Is  my  nephew  come 
Drenched  with  rain,  his  collar  pulled  up,  and, home?''  btrt  fortunately  it  was  not  asked.— 


60 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


Miss  Leaf  lay  quiet  and  passive,  and  her  faith- 
ful nurse  settled  her  for  the  night  with  a 
strangely  solemn  feeling,  as  if  she  were  leaving 
her  to  her  last  rest,  safe  and  at  peace  before 
the  overhanging  storm  broke  upon  the  family. 

But  all  shadow  of  this  storm  seemed  to  have 
passed  away  from  him  who  was  its  cause.  Asi 
soon  as  the  house  was  still  Ascott  crept  downi 
and  fell  to  his  supper  with  as  good  an  appetite, 
as  possible.  He  even  became  free  and  con- 
versational. 

"  Don't  look  so  glum,  Elizabeth.  I  shall 
soon  weather  through.  Old  Ascott  will  fork 
out ;  he  couldn't  help  it.  I'm  to  be  his  nephew 
you  know.  Oh,  that  was  a  clever  catch  of 
Aunt  Selina's.  If  only  Aunt  Hilary  would 
try  another  like  it." 

"  If  you  please,  Sir,  I'm  going  to  bed." 

"Off  with  you,  then,  and  I'll  not  forget  the 
gown  at  Christmas.  You're  a  sharp  young 
woman,  and  I'm  much  obliged  to  you."  And 
for  a  moment  he  looked  as  if  he  were  about 
to  make  the  usual  unmannerly  acknowledg- 
ment of  civility  from  a  yqung  gentleman  to  a 
servant  maid,  viz.,  kissing  her,  but  he  pulled 
a  face  and  drew  back.  He  really  couldn't ; 
she  was  so  very  plain. 

At  this  moment  there  came  a  violent  ring, 
and  "  Fire !"  was  shouted  through  the  key- 
hole of  the  door.  Terrified,  Elizabeth  ooened 
it,  when,  with  a  burst  of  laughter,  a  man  rush- 
ed in  and  laid  hands  upon  Ascott. 

It  was  the  sheriff's  officer. 

When  his  trouble  came  upon  him  Ascott's 
manliness  returned.  He  turned  very  white, 
but  he  made  no  opposition  ;  had  even  enough 
of  his  wits  about  him — or  someting  better 
than  wits — to  stop  Mrs.  Jones  from  rushing 
up  in  alarm  and  indignation  to  arouse  Miss 
Leaf. 

"  No ;  she'll  know  it  quite  soou  enough. — 
Let  her  sleep  till  morning.  Elizabeth,  look 
here."  He  wrote  upon  a  card  the  address  of 
the  place  he  was  to  be  taken  to.  "  Give  Aunt 
Hilary  this.  Say  if  she  can  think  of  a  way 
to  get  me  out  of  this  horrid  mess ;  but  I  don't 
deserve — Never  mind.  Come  on,  you  fel- 
lows." 

He  pulled  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  jumped  in- 
to the  cab,  and  was  gone.  The  whole  thing 
had  not  occupied  five  minutes. 

Stupefied,  Elizabeth  stood  aid  considered 
what  was  best  to  be  done.  Miss  Hilary  must 
be  told  ;  but  how  to  get  at  her  in  the  middle 
of  the  night,  thereby  leaving  her  mistress  to 
the  mercy  of  Mrs.  Jones.  It  would  never  do. 
Suddenly  she  thought  of  Miss  Balquidder. — 
She  might  send  a  message.  No,  not  a  mess- 
age— for  the  family  misery  and  disgrace  must 
not  be  betrayed  to  a  stranger — but  a  letter  to 
Kensington. 

"With  an  effort  Elizabeth  composed  herself 
sufficiently  to  write  one — her  firet — to  her 
dear  Miss  Hilary. 


"  Honored  Madam,— Mr.  Leaf  has  got  himself  into  trou- 
ble, and  is  taken  away  somewhere ;  and  I  dare  not  tell 
missis :  and  I  wish  you  was  at  home,  as  she  is  not  well,  but 
better  than  she  has  been,  and  she  shall  know  nothing  about 
it  till  you  come. — Your  obedient  and  affectionate  servant, 

Elizabeth  IIasd." 

Taking  Ascott's  latch-key  she  quitted  the 
house  and  slipped  out  into  the  dark  night,  al- 
most losing  her  way  among  the  gloomy 
squares,  where  she  met  not  a  creature  except 
the  solitary  policeman,  plashing  steadily  along 
the  wet  pavement.  When  he  turned  the 
glimmer  of  his  bull's  eye  upon  her  she  started 
like  a  guilty  creature,  till  she.  remembered 
that  she  really  was  doing  nothing  wrong,  and 
so  need  not  be  afraid  of  any  thing.  This  was 
her  simple  creed,  which  Miss  Hilary  had 
taught  her,  and  it  upheld  her,  even  till  she 
knocked  at  Miss  Balquidder's  door. 

There,  poor  girl,  her  heart  sank,  especially 
when  Mias  Balquidder,  in  an  anomalous  cos- 
tume and  a  severe  voice,  opened  the  door 
herself,  and  asked  who  was  -there,  disturbing 
a  respectable  family  at  this  late  hour? 

Elizabeth  answered,  what  she  had  before 
determined  to  say,  as  sufficiently  explaining 
her  errand,  and  yet  betraying  nothing  that  her 
mistress  might  wish  concealed. 

"  Please,  ma'am,  I'm  Miss  Leaf's  servant. 
My  missis  is  ill,  and  I  want  a  letter  sent  at 
once  to  Miss  Hilary." 

"Oh!  come  in,  then.  Elizabeth,  I  think, 
your  name  is?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  What  made  you  leave  home  at  this  hour 
of  the  night?     Did  your  mistress  send  you?" 

"  No." 

"  Is  she  so  very  ill?  It  seems  sudden.  I 
saw  Miss  Hilary  to-day,  and  she  knew  no- 
thing at  all  about  it." 

Elizabeth  shrank  a  .little  before  the  keen 
eye  that  seemed  to  read  her  through. 

"  There's  more  amiss  *han  you  have  told 
me,  young  woman.  Is  it  because  your  mis- 
tress is  in  serious  danger  that  you  want  to  send 
for  her  sister?" 

"No." 

"/Whatis  it  then  ?  You  had  better  tell  me 
at  once.     I  hate  concealment." 

It  was  a  trial ;  but  Elizabeth  held  her 
ground. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am  ;  but  I  don't 
think  missis  would  like  any  body  to  know, 
and  therefore  I'd  rather  not  tell  you." 

Now  the  honest  Scotswoman,  as  she  said, 
hated  any  thing  underhand,  but  she  respected 
the  right  of  every  human  being  to  maintain 
silence  if  necessary.  She  looked  sharply  in 
Elizabeth's  face,  which  apparently  re-assured 
her,  for  she  said,  not  unkindly, 

"Very  well,  child,  keep  your  mistress's  se- 
crets by  all  means.  Only  tell  me  what  you 
want.  Shall  I  take  a  cab  and  fetch  Miss 
Hilary  at  once  V 

Elizabeth  thanked  her,  but  said  she  thought 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


61 


that  would  not  do ;  it  would  be  better  just  to 
send  the  note  the  first  thing  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, and  then  Miss  Hilary  would  come  home 
'just  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  and  Miss 
Leaf  would  not  be  frighted  by  her  sudden  ap 
'pearance. 

"  You  are  a  good,  mindful  girl,"  said  Miss 
Balquidder.  "  How  did  you  learn  to  be  so 
sensible  ?" 

At  the  kindly  word  and  manner,  Elizabeth, 
bewildered  and  exhausted  with  the  excitement 
she  had  gone  through,  and  agitated  by  the 
feeling  of  having,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life, 
to  act  on  her  own  responsibility,  gave  way  a 
little.  She  did  not  exactly  cry,  but  she  was 
very  near  it.  • 

Miss  Balquidder  called  over  the  stair-head, 
in  her  quick,  imperative  voice — 

"  David,  is  your  wife  away  to  her  bed  yet?" 

"No,  ma'am." 

''Then  tell  her  to  fetch  this  young  woman 
to  the  kitchen  and  give  her  some  supper.  And 
afterward,  will-  you  see  her  safe  home,  poor 
lassie?     She's  awfully  tired,  you  see." 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

And  following  David's  gray  head,  Elizabeth, 
for  the  first  time  since  she  came  to  London, 
took  a  comfortable  meal  in  a  comfortable 
kitchen,  seasoned  with  such  stories  of  Miss 
Balquidder's  goodness  and  generosity,  that 
when,  an  hour  after,  she  went  home  and  to 
sleep,  it  was  with  a  quieter  and  more  hopeful 
than  she  could  have  believed  possible  under 
the  circumstances.  I 


sore  trouble,  this  bitter  humiliation.  There 
was  no  attempt  at  disguise  or  concealment 
between  mistress  and  maid. 

"Mrs.  Jones  has  told  me  every  thing,  Eliz- 
abeth. How  is  my  sister?  She  does  not 
know  1"  ' 

"No;  and  I  think  she  is  a  good  deal  better 
this  morning.  She  has  been  very  bad  all  week: 
only  she  would  not  let  me  send  for  you.  She 
is  really  getting  well  now ;  I'm  sure  of  that!" 

"Thank  God!"  And  then  Miss  Hilary 
began  to  weep. 

Elizabeth  also  was  thankful,  even  for  those 
tears,  for  she  had  been  perplexed  by  the  hard, 
dry-eyed  look  of  misery,  deeper  than  anything 
she  could  comprehend,  or  than  the  circum- 
stances seemed  to  warrant. 

It  was  deeper.  The  misery  was  not  only 
Ascott's  arrest ;  many  a  lad  has  got  into  debt 
and  got  out  again — the  first  taste  of  the  law 
proving  a  warning  to  him  for  life  ;  but  it  was 
this  ominous  "  beginning  of  the  end."  The 
fatal  end — which  seemed  to  overhang  like  a 
hereditary  cloud,  to  taint  as  with  hereditary 
disease,  the  Leaf  family. 

Another  bitterness  (and  who  shall  blame  it, 
for  when  love  is  really  love,  have  not  the  lov- 
ers a  right  to  be  one  another's  first  thought?) 
— what  would  Robert  Lvon  say  ?  To  his  hon- 
est Scotch  nature  poverty  was  nothing  ;  honor 
every  thing.  She  knew  his  horror  of  debt  was 
even  equal  to  her  own.  This,  and  her  belief 
in  h's  freedom  from  all  false  pride,  had  sus- 
tained her  against  many  doubts  lest  he  might 
think  the  less  of  her  because  of  her  present 
position — might  feel  ashamed  could  he  see  her 
sitting  at  her  ledger  in  that  high  desk,  or  even 
occasionally  serving  in  the  shop. 

Many  a  time  things  she  would  have  passed 
over  lightly  on  her  own  account  she  had  felt 
on  his;  felt  how  they  would  annoy  and  vex 
him.  The  exquisitely  natural  thought  which 
Tennyson  has  put  into  poetry — 

"  If  I  am  dear  to  some  one  else, 
Then  I  should  be  to  myself  more  dear  " — 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Next  morning,  while  with  that  cheerful, 
unanxious  countenance  which  those  about  an 
invalid  must  learn  continually  to  wear,  Eliza- 
beth was  trying  to  persuade  her  mistress  not 
to  rise,  she  heard  a  knock,  and  made  some 
excuse  for  escaping.  She  well  knew  what  it 
was  and  who  had  come. 

There,  in  the  parlor,  sat  Miss  Hilary,  Mrs. 
Jones  talking  at  her  rather  than  to  her,  for  she 
hardly  seemed  to  hear.  But  that  she  had 
heard  every  thing  was  clear  enough.  Her 
drawn  white  face,  the  tight  clasp  of  her  hands, 
showed  that  the  ill  tidings  had  struck  her 
hard. 

"Go  away,  Mrs.  Jones,"  cried  Elizabeth, 
fiercely.  "  Miss  Hilary  will  call  when  she 
wants  you." 

And  with  an  ingenious  movement  that  just  were  the  recommencement  of  that  bitter  life  of 
fell  short  of  a  push,  somehow  the  woman  was  J  penury,  misery,  and  humiliation,  familiar 
got  on  the  other  side  of  the  parlor  door,  which  |  through  three  generations  to  the  women  of  the 
Elizabeth    immediately    shut.      Then    Miss, Leaf family. 

Hilary  stretched  her  hands  across  the  table!     It  appeared  like  a  fate.    No  use  to  try  and 
and  looked  uppiteously  in  her  servant's  face. I struggle  out  of  it,  stretching  her  arms  up  to 

Only  a  servant;  only  that  poor  servant  toiRobert  Lyon's  tender,  honest,  steadfast  heart, 
whom  she  could  lo«k  for  any  comfort  in  thislthere  to  be  sheltered,  taken  care  of,  and  made 


had  often  come,  prosaically  enough  perhaps, 
into  her  head,  and  prevented  her  from  spoiling 
her  little  hands  with  unnecessarily  rough  work, 
or  carelessly  passing  down  ill  streets  and  by- 
ways, where  she  knew  Robert  Lyon,  had  he 
been  in  London,  would  never  have  allowed 
her  to  go.  Now  what  did  such  things  signify? 
What  need  of  taking  care  of  herself?  These 
were  all  superficial,  external  disgraces,  the 
real  disgrace  was  within.  The  plague-spot 
had  burst  out  anew  ;  it  seemed  as  if  this  dav 


62 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


happy.     No  happiness  for  her!     Nothing  but  to  think  how  much  it  will  cost  us  all,  and  es- 

to  goon  enduring  and  enduring  to  the  end.       pecially   you,    Johanna.      Only    think   what 

Such  was  Hilary's   first  emotion;  morbid  comforts  of  all  sorts  that thirty  pounds  would 

perhaps,  yet  excusable.     It  might  have  lasted  have  brought  to  you  »' 


longer — though  in  her  healthy  nature  it  could 
not  have  lasted  very  long — had  not  the  reac- 
tion come,  suddenly   and   completely,  bv  the 


God  will  provide, ".said  Johanna,  earn 

ly.     "  But  I  know,  my  dear,  this  is  sharper  to 

you  than  to   me.     Besides,  I  have  been  more 


opening  of  the  parlor  door,  and  the  appearance  used  to  it." 

of  Miss  Leaf.  She  closed  her  eyes,  with  a  half  shudder,  as 

Miss  Leaf— pale,  indeed  :  but  neitheralarm-  if  living  over  again  theolddays  —when  Henrj 
ed  nor  agitated,  who  hearing  somehow  that  Leaf's  wife  and  eldest  daughter  used  to  have 
her  child  had  arrived,  had  hastily  dressed  her-  to  give  dinner  parties  upon  food  that  stuck  in 
self,  and  come  down-  stairs,  in  order  not  to  their  throats,  as  if  every  morsel  had  been  sto- 
frighten  Hilary.  And  as  she  look  her  .in  her  len  ;  which  in  truth  it  was,  and  yet  they  were 
arms,  and  kissed  her  with  those  mother-like  helpless,  innocent  thieves;  when  they  and  the 
kisses,  which  were  the  sweetest  Hilary  had  as  children  had  to  wear  clothes  that  seemed  to 
yet  ever  known— the  sharp  anguish  went  outjpoison  them  like  the  shirt  of  Dejanira;  when 
of  the  poor  girl's  heart.  they  durst  not  walk  along  special  streets,  nor 

"Oh,  Johanna!  I  can  bear. any    thing  as  pass  particular  shops,  for  the  feeling  that  the 
long  as  I  have  you."  shop  people  must  be  staring,  and  pointing,  and 

And  so  in  this  simple  and  natural  way  the  jibing  at  them,  "Pay  me  what  thou  owest!" 
miserable  secret  about  Ascott  came  out.  "But   things  "can  not   again    be  so  bad  as 

Being  once   out,   it  did   not  seem  half  so  those  days,  Hilary. 
dreadful;  nor  was  its  effect  nearly  so  serious1  mend.     People 


as  Miss  Hilary  and  Elizabeth  had  feared. — 
Miss  Leaf  bore  it  wonderfully  :  she  might  al- 
most have  known  it  beforehand  :  they  would 
have  thought  she  had.  but  that  she  said  deci- 
dedly she  had  not 


Ascott  is  young  : 
mend,  my  child : 


he  maj 

and  he 


had  such  a  different  bringing-up  from  what  his 
father  had,  and  his  grandfather,  too.  We 
must  not  be  hopeless  yet.  You  see,"  and  ma- 
king Hilary  kneel  down  before  her,  she  took 
her  by  both  hands,  as -if  to  impart  something 


Still  you  need  not  have  minded  telling  me:  of  her  own  quietness  to  this  poor  heart,  strug- 
though  it  was  very  good  and  thoughtful  of  you,  Igling  as  young,  honest,  upright  hearts  do 
Elizabeth.     You  have  gone   through  a   greaty struggle  with   something   which   their  whole 


the 


Miss  Hi'ary  some  breakfast." 
When    Elizabeth  baa    departed 


nature  remits  against,  and  loathes,  and  scorns 

— "  you^K,'  the  boy  is  our  boy  :  our  own  flesh 

and  blooK     We  were  very  foolish  to  let   him 

from  us  for  so  long.     We  might   have 

made  him  better  if  we  had  kept  him  at  Stosv- 

"You   shall  tell  me  the  bury.     But  he  is  young;  that   is  my  hope  of 

Go  down    now,  and  get  lam  ;  and  he  was  always   fond  of  his   aunts. 


deal  for  our  sakes,  my  poor  girl." 

Elizabeth  burst  into  one  smothered  sob 
first  and  the  last. 

"Nay,"    said    Miss    Leaf,  very    kindly: 
for  this   unwonted   emotion    in  their  servant 
moved  them   both, 
rest  another  time. 


and  is  still,  1  think." 
the  sisters1     Hilary  smiled  sadly, 


"  Deeds,  not  words. 


turned  to  one   another.     They   did  not    talk  I  don't  believe  in  words." 

much  :  where  was  the  use  of  it?     They  both      "  Well,  let  us  put  aside  believing,  and  only 

knew  the  worst,  both  as  to  facts  and  fears.       act.     Let  us  give  him  another  chance." 

"  What  must  be  done,  Johanna?"  Hilary   shook  her  head.     "Another,  and 

Johanna,  after  a   long  pause,  said,  "I  see'another,  and  another—  it  will    be   always  the 


but  one  thing — to  get  him  home." 


same.     1  know  it  will.     I  can't  tell  how  it  is 


Hilary  started*up,  and  walked  to  and  fro  a-  Johanna:  but  whenever  I  look  at  you,  I  feel 
lone  the  room.  so  stern  and  hard  to  Ascott.     It  seems  as  if 

4°No,  not  that.  I  will  never  agree  to  it. — , there  were  circumstances  when  pity  to  some, 
We  can  not  help  him.  He  does  not  deserve  jto  one,  was  wicked  injustice  toothers:  as  if 
helping.  If  the  debts  were  for  food  now,  orithere  were  times  when  it  is  right  and  needful 
any  necessaries  ;  but  for  mere  luxuries,  mere;  to  lop  off,  at  once  and  forever,  a  rotten  branch 
fine  clothes:  it  is  his  tailor  who  has  arrested  rather  than  let  the  whole  tree  go  to  rack  and 
him,  you  know.     I  would   rather   have  gone  ruin.     I  would  do  it !     I  should  think  myself 


in  rags!  I  would  rather  see  us  all  in  rags  ! — 
It's  mean,  selfish,  cowardly,  and  I  despise  him 
for  it.  Though  he  is  my  own  flesh  and  blood, 
1  despise  him." 
'  "  Hilary !" 
"No,"  and  the  tears  burst  from  her  angry 
eyes,  "  I  don't  mean  that  I  despise  him.  I'm 
sorry  tor  him  :  there  is  good  in  him,  poor  dear 
lad  ;  but  I  despise  his  weakness ;  I  feel  fierce 


He  is  only  a  boy— our 


justified  in  doing  it." 

"  But  not  just  yet. 
own  boy." 

And  the  two  women,  in  both  of  whom  the 
maternal  passion  existed  strong  and  deep,  yet 
in  the  one  never  had  found,  and  in  the  other 
never  might  find,  its  natural  channel,  wept 
togetherjover  this  lad,  almost  as  mothers  weep. 

"  But  what  can  we  do  V  said  Hilary  at  last. 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


63 


that  the  family  might  die  out,  and  trouble] 


■■  Thirty  pounds,  and  not  a  halfpenny  to  pay 
it  with  :   must  we  borrow?" 

>h  no — no,"  was  the  answer,  with  a 
shrinking  gesture  :  "  no  borrowing.  There  is 
the  diamond  rin 

This  was  a  sort  of  heir-loom  from  eldest 
daughter  to  eldest  daughter  ol" the  Leaf  family. 
which  had  been  kept  even  as  a  sort  of  super- 
stition, through  all  temptations  of  poverty. — 
The  last  time  Miss  Leaf  looked  at  it  she  had 
remarked,  Jestingly,  it  should  be  given  some 
day  to  that  important  personage  talked  of  for 
many  a  year  among  the  three  aunts — Mrs. 
A  so  >tt  Leaf. 

"Who  must  do  without  it  now,"  said  Jo- 
hanna, looking  regretfully  at  the  ring;  ".that 
is,  if  he  ever  takes  to  himselfa  wife,  poor  boy." 

Hilary  answered,  beneath  her  breath,  "Un- 
less he  alters,  I  earnestly  hope  he  never  may." 
And  there  came  over  her  involuntarily  a  wild, 
despairing  thought,  Would  it  not  be  better  that 
neither  Ascott  nor  herself  should  ever  be  mar- 
ried 
the  world  no  more? 

Nevertheless  she  rose  up  to  do  what  she 
know  had  10  be  done,  and  what  there  was  no- 
body to  do  but  herself. 

"  Don't  mind  it,  Johanna  ;  for  indeed  I  do 
not.  I  shall  go  to  a  first  rate,  respectable  jew- 
eler, and  he  will  not  cheat  me;  and  then  I 
shall  find  my  way  to  thesponging-house — isn't 
that  what  they  call  it  ?  I  dare  say  many  a 
poor  woman  has  been  there  before  me.  I  am 
not  the  first,  and  shall  not  be  the  last,  and  no- 
body will  harm  me.  I  think  I  look  honest, 
though  my  name  is  Leaf." 

She  laughed — a  bitter  laugh  ;  but  Johanna 
silenced  it  in  a  close  embrace  ;  and  when  Hil- 
ary rose  up  again  she  was  quite  her  natural 
self.  She  summoned  Elizabeth,  and  began 
giving  her  all  domestic  directions,  just  as  usu- 
al ;  finally,  bade  her  sister  good-by  in  a  tone 
as  like  her  usual  tone  as  possible,  and  left  her 
settled  on  the  sofa  in  content  and  peace. 

Elizabeth  followed  to  the  door.  Miss  Hila- 
ry had  asked  her  for  the  card  on  which  Ascott 
had  written  the  address  of  the  place  where  he 
had  been  taken  to;  and  though  the  girl  said 
not  a  word,  her  anxious  eyes  made  piteous  in- 
quiry. 

Her  mistress  patted  her  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Never  mind  about  me  ;  I  shall  come  to 
no  harm,  Elizabeth." 

"  It's  a  bad  place  ;  such  a  dreadful  place, 
Mrs.  Jones  says." 

"Is  it?"  Elizabeth  guessed  part,  not  the 
whole  of  the  feelings  that,  made  Hilary  Hesi- 
tate, shrink  even,  from  the  duty  before  her, 
turning  first  so  hot,  and  then  so  pale.  Only 
as  a  duty  could  she  have  done  it  at  all.  "  No 
matter,  1  must  go.     Take  care  of  my  sister." 

She  ran  down    the  do. i  and   walked 

quickly  through  the  Crescent.     It  was  a  clear, 

l liny,  frosty  day — such  a  day  as  always 


both  cheered  and  calmed  her.  She  had,  des- 
pite all  her  cares,  youth,  health,  energy;  and 
a  holy  and  consta'nt  love  lay  like  a  sleeping 
angel  in  her  heart.  Must  I  tell  the  truth,  and 
own  that  before  she  had  gone  two  streets' 
Length  Hilary  ceased  to  feel  so  very,  very  mis- 
erable? 

Love — this  kind  of  love  of  which  I  speak — 
is  a  wonderful  thing,  the  most  wonderful  thing 
in  all  the  world.  The  strength  it  gives,  the 
brightness, the  actual  happiness^even  in  hardest 
times,  is  often  quite  miraculous.  When  Hil- 
ary sat  waiting  in  the  jeweler's  shop,  she 
watched  a  little  episode  of  high  life — two 
wealthy  people  choosing  their  marriage  plate; 
the  bride,  so  careless  and  haughty  ;  the  bride- 
groom, so  unutterably  mean  to  look  at,  stamp- 
ed with  that  innate  smallness  and  coarseness 
of  soul  which  his  fine  clothes  only  made  more 
apparent.  And  she  thought — oh,  how  fondly 
she  thought! — of  that  honest,  manly  mein  ; 
of  that  true,  untaiuted  heart,  which  she  felt 
sure,  had  never  lovad  any  woman  but  herself; 
of  the  warm,  firm  hand,  carving  its  way  thro' 
the  world  for  her  sake,  and  waiting  patiently 
till  it  could  openly  clasp  hers,  and  give  her 
every  thing  it  had  won.  She  would  not  have 
exchanged  him,  Eobert  Lyon,  with  his  penni- 
less love,  his  half-hopeless  fortunes,  or  maybe 
his  lot  of  never-ending  care,  for  the  "  brawest 
bridegroom"  under  the  sun. 

Under  this  sun — thecommou,  everyday  win- 
ter sun  of  Regent  and  Oxford  streeta — she 
walked  now  as  brightly  and  bravely  as  if  there 
were  no  trouble  before  her,  no  painful  meet- 
ing with  Ascott,  no  horrid  humiliation  from 
which  every  womanly  feeling  in  her  nature 
shrunk  with  acute  pain.  "  Robert,  my  Rob- 
ert!" she  whispered  in  her  heart,  and  felt  him 
so  near  to  her  that  she  was  at  rest,  she  hardly 
knew  why. 

Possibly  grand,  or  cleyer,  or  happy  people 
who  condescend  to  read  this  story  may  des- 
pise it,  think  it  un ideal,  uninteresting;  treat- 
ingof  small  things  and  common  people — "poor 
persons,"  in  short.  I  can  not  help  it.  I 
write  for  the  poor;  not  to  excite  the  compas- 
sion of  the  rich  toward  them,  but  to  show  them 
their  own  dignity  and  the  bright  sule  of  their 
poverty.  For  it  has  its  bright  side;  and  its 
very  darkest,  when  no  sin  is  mixed  up  there- 
with, is  brighter  than  many  an  outwardly 
prosperous  life. 

"Better  is   a  dinney  of  herbs,  where  love  is, 
//,  ^  ox  and  haired  therewith. 

"  Better  is  a  </iy  morsel,  and  quietness  there- 
with,  than  a  house  full  of  sacrifices  and  strife." 

With  these  two  sage  proverbs — which  all 
acknowledge  and  scarcely  any  really  believe, 
or  surely  they  would  act  a  little  moreas  if  they 
did — I  leave  .Johanna  Leaf  sitting  silently  in 
her  solitary  parlor,  knitting  stockings  for  her 
child:  weaving  many  a  mingled  web  of  thought 
withal,  yet  never  letting  a  stitch  go  down;  and 


64 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


Hilary  Leaf  walking  cheerily  and  fearlessly  upj amount,  and  looking  steadily  into  Ascott's 
one  strange  street  and   down  another  to  find  eyes^ 

out  cbe  "  bad"  place,  where  she  once  had  no  He  flushed  up,  and  asked  what  she  meant 
idea  it  would  ever  have  been  her  lot  to  go. —  by  doubting  his  word  ? 

One  thing  she  knew,  and  gloried  in  the  know-'  "  Not  that,  but  you  might  easily  have  made 
ledge,  that  if  Robert  Lyon  had  known  she  was  a  mistake  :  you  are  so  careless  about  money 
going,  or  known   half  the  cares  she  had  toj  matters." 

meet,  he  would  have  recrossed  the  Indian  seas'  "  Ah,  that's  it.  I'm  just  careless,  and  so  I 
— havs  risked  fortune,  competence,  hope  of  the  come  to  grief.  But  I  never  mean  to  be  care- 
future,  which  was  the  only  cheer  of  his  hard|less  any  more.  I'll  be  as  precise  as  you.  I'll 
preseQt_in  order  to  save  her  from  them  all.  (balance  my  books  every  week— every  day  if 
The  minute  history  of  this  painfil  day  I  do  you  like— exactly  as  you  do  >at  that  horrid 
not  mean  to   tell.     Hilary   never  told  'it  till,  shop,  Aunt  Hilary." 

years  after,  she  wept  it  out  upon  a  bosom  that      So  he  was   rattling  on,  but  Hilary  stopped 
could  understand  the  whole,  and  would   take  him  by  pointing  to  the  figures, 
•rood  care  that  while   the.  life    beat  in  his  she      "  You  see,  this  sum  is  more  than  we  expect- 


never  should  go  through  the  like  again. 

Ascott  came  home— that  is,  was  brought 
home — very  humbled,  contrite,  and  grateful. 
There  was  no  one  to  meet  him  but  his  Aunt 
Johanna,  and  she  just  kissed  him  quietly,  and 
bade  him  come  over  to  the  fire ;  he  was  shiv- 
ering, and  somewhat  pale.     He  had  even  two 


ed.     How  is  it  to  be  met  ?     Think   for  your- 
self.    You  are  a  man  now." 

"  I  know  that,"  said  Ascott,  sullenly;  "but 
what's  the  use  of  it? — money  only  makes  the 
man,  and  I  have  none.  If  the  ancient  Peter 
would  but  die  now  and  leave  me  his  heir, 
though  to  be  sure  Aunt  Selina  might  be  put- 


tears  in   his  handsome   eyes,  the  first  Ascott: ting  her  oar   in.     Perhaps— considering   I'm 


had  been  known  to  shed  since  he  was  a  boy. 
That  he  felt  a  good  deal,  perhaps  as  much  as 
was  in  his  nature  to  feel,  there  could  be^  no 
doubt.  So  his  two  aunts  were  glad  and  com- 
forted ;  gave  him  his  tea  and  the  wannest  seat 
at  the  hearth  ;  said  not  a  harsh  word  to  him, 
but  talked  to  him  about  indifferent  things. — 
Tea  being  over,  Hilaiy  was  auxious  to  get  ev- 
ery thing  painful  ended  before  Selina  came 
home— Selina,  who,  they  felt  by  instinct,  had 
now  a  separate  interest  from  themselves,  and 
had  better  not  be  told  Dfcis  sad  story  if  possible; 
so  she  asked  her  nephew  ''if  he  remembered 
what  they  had  to  do  this  evening  ?" 

"Had  to  do?  Oh,  Aunt  Hilary,  I'm  so 
tired!  can't  you  let  me  be  quiet?  Only  this 
one  night.  I  promhe  to  bring  you  everything 
on  Monday." 

•'  Monday  will  be  too  late.  I  shall  be  away. 
And  you  know  vou   can't  do  without  my  ex-' at  any  thing  and  every  thing,  stint  himself  of 


Aunt  Selina's  nephew — if  I  were  to  walk  into 
the  old  chap  now  he  might  be  induced  to  fork 
out !     Hurrah  !  that's  a  splendid  idea." 

"  What  idea?" 

"  I'll  borrow  the  money  from  old  Ascott." 

"  That  means,  because  he  has  already  given, 
you  would  have  him  keep  on  giving — and  you 
would  take  and  take  and  take — Ascott,  I'm 
ashamed  of  you." 

But  Ascott  only  burst  out  laughing.  ''Non- 
sence ! — he  has  money  and  I  have  none;  why 
shouldn't  he  give  it  me  ?" 

"  Why  ?" — she  repeated,  her  eyes  flashing 
and  her  little  feminine  figure  seeming  to  grow 
taller  as  she  spoke— "I'll  tell  pou,  since  you 
don't  seem  yourself  to  understand  it.  Because 
a  young  man,  with  health  and  strength  in 
him,  should  blush  to  eat  any  bread  but  what 
he  himself  earns.     Because  he  should    work 


cellent  arithmetic,"  she  added  with  a  faint 
smile.  "  Now,  Ascott,  be  a  good  boy— fetch 
down  all  those  bills  and  let  us  go  over  them 
together."  t 

"  His  debts  came  to  more  than  the  thirty 
pounds  then?"  said  his  Aunt  Johanna,  whgn 
lie  was  gone. 

"  Yes.     But  the  ring  sold  for  fifty."     And 
Hilary  drew  to  the  table,  got  writing  materials, 
and  sat  waiting,  with  n  ddlr,  silent  patience  in 
her  look,  at  which    Johann$  sighed   and 
no  more. 

The  aunt  and 
'joins;  over   that 


nephew 
handful 


spent  some  tune  in 
of  papers,  and   ap- 


every  luxury  and  pleasure,  rather  than  ask  or 
borrow^  or,  except  under  rare  circumstances, 
rather  than  be  indebted  to  any  living  soul  for 
a  single  half-penny.  I  would  not,  if  1  were  a 
young  man." 

"  What  a  nice  young  'man  vou  would  make, 
Aunt  Hilary. !"     ' 

There  was  something  in  the  lad's  impertur- 
bable, gdod  humor  at  once  irritating  and  dis- 
arming. Whatever  his  faults,  the'  were  inore 
fcive  than  positive;  there  was  no  mal\ce 
prepense  about  him,  no  absolute  personal 
wickedness.  And  he  had  the  strange  charm 
of  manner  and  speech  which  keeps  up  one's 


proxTmating  to  the  sum   total,  in  that  kind  ofjouter  surface  of  habitual  affection   toward  a 


awful  arithmetic  when  figures  cease  to  be  mere 
figures,  but  grow  intoavenging  monsters,  bear- 
ing with  them  life  or  death. 

;  Is  that  all !     You  are  quite  sure  it  is  all?" 


person  long  after  all  its   foundations  of  trust 
and  respect  have  hopelessly  crumbled  away. 
'■  Come  now,  my  pretty   aunt  must  go  with 
me.     She  will  manage  the  old  ogre  much  better 


said  Hilary  at  last,  pointing  to  the  whole  than  I.    And  he  must  be  managed  somehow, 


MISTRESS*  AND  MAID. 


65 


It's  all  very  line  talking  of  independence,  but 
if  n't  it  hard  that  a  poor  fellow  should  be  living 
in  constant  dread  of  being  carried  oft'  to  that 
horrid,  uncleanlj,  beastly  den — bah  !  I  don't 
like  thinking  of  it — and  all  for  the  want  of 
twenty  pounds  T  You  muse  go  to  him,  Aunt 
Hilary." 

She  saw  they  must — there  was  no  help  for 
it.  Even  Johanna  said  so.  It  was  after  all 
ouly  asking  for  Ascott's  quarterly  allowance 
three  days  in  advance,  for  it  was  due  on  Tues- 
day. But  what  jarred  against  hei  proud,  hon- 
est spirit  waa  the  implication  that  such  a 
request  gave  of  taking  as  a  right  that  which 
had  been  sa  long  bestowed  as  a  favor.  Nothing 
but  the  great  strait  they  were  in  could  ever 
have  driven  her  to  consent  that  Mr.  Ascott 
should  be  applied  to  at  all ;  but  since  it  must 
be  done,  she  felt  that  she  had  better  do  it  her- 
self.    Was  it  from  some  lurking  doubt  or  dread 


crim8on-atmosphered  apartment.  She  as  well 
as  her  neighbors  liked  pretty  things  about  her, 
soft,  harmonious  colors  to  look  at  and  wear, 
well-cooked  food  to  eat,  cheerful  rooms  to  live 
in.  It  she  could  have  had  all  these  luxuries 
with  those  she  loved  to  share  them,  no  doubt 
she  would  have  been  much  happier.  But  yet 
6he  felt  to  the  full  that  solemn  truth  that  "a 
man's  life  consisteth  not  in  the  abundance  of 
things  that  he  possesses ;"  and  though  hers 
was  outwardly  so  dark,  so  full  of  poverty, 
anxiety,  and  pain,  still  she  knew  that  inwardly 
it  owned  many  things,  one  thing  especially, 
which  no  money  could  buy,  and  without  which 
fine  houses,  fine  furniture,  and  fine  clothes — 
indeed,  all  the  comforts  and  splendors  of  ex- 
istence, would  be  worse  that  valueless,  actual 
torment.  So  as  she  looked  around  her  she 
felt  not  the  slightest  envy  of  her  sister  Selina. 
Nor  of  honest  Peter,  who  rose  up  from  his 


that  Ascott  might  not  speak  the  entire  truth, !arm-chair,  pulling  the  yellow  ailk  handker- 
as  she  had  insisted  upon  its  being  spoken,  be-;chief  from  his  sleepy  face,  and,  it  must  be  con- 
fore  Mr.  Ascott  was  asked  for  any  thing  ?;fe6sed,  receiving  his  future  connections  very 
since  whatever  he  gave  must  be  given  with  a|  willingly,  and  even  kindly, 
full  knowledge  on  his  part  of  the  whole  pitiablej  Now  how  was  he  to  be  told?  How  when 
state  of  affairs.  ;she  and  Ascott  sat  over  the   wine  and  desert 


It  was  with  a  strange,  sad  feeling — the  sad- 
der because  he  never  seemed  to  suspect  it,  but 
talked  and  laughed  with  her  as  usual — that 
she  took  her  nephew's  arm  and  walked  silently 


he  had  ordered  for  them,  listening  to  the  rich 
man's  complaisant  pomposities,  were  they  to 
explain  that  they  had  come  a  begging,  asking 
him,  as  the  climax  to  his  liberalities,  to  ad- 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


through  the  dark  squares,  perfectly  well  awarelvance  a  few  pounds  in  order  to  keep  the  young 
that  he  only  asked  her  to  go  with  him  in  order  man  whom  he  had  for  years  generously  and 
to  do  an  unpleasant  thing  which  he  did  not  .'Sufficiently  maintained  out  of  prison?  This, 
like  to  do  himself,  and  that  she  only  went  witlvsmooth  it  over  as  one  might,  was,  Hilary  felt, 
hits  in  the  character  of  watch,  or  supervisor,jthe  plain  English  of  the  matter,  and  as  minute 
to  try  and  save  him  from  doing  something'after  minute  lengthened,  and  nothing  was  said 
which  she  herself  would  be  ashamed  should  of  their  errand,  she  sat  upon  thorns. 
be  done.  But  Ascott  drank  his  wine  and  ate  his  wal- 

Yethe  was  ostensibly  the  head,  hope,  and  nuts  quite  composedly, 
stay  of  the  family.     Alas!  many  a  family  has|     At  last  Hilary  said,  in  a  sort  of  desperation, 
to  submit  to,  and  »mile  under  an  equally  mel-i"  Mr.  Ascott,  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 
ancholy  and  fatal  sham.  "With  pleasure,  my  dear  young  lady.     Will 

you  come  to  my  study? — I  have  a  most  ele- 
gantly furnished  study,  I  assure  you.  And 
|  any  affair  of  yours — " 

I     "  Thank  you,  but  it  is  not  mine  ;  itconcerns 
•  my  nephew  here." 

Mr.  Ascott  was  sitting  half  asleep  in  his  And  then  she  braced  up  all  her couiage.and 
solitary  dining  room,  hie  face  rosy  with  wine,  while  Ascott  busied  himself  over  his  walnute 
his  heart  warmed  also,  probably  from  the  same! — he  had  the  grace  to  look  excessively  uncom- 
cause.  Not  that  he  was  in  the  least  "  tipsy  "fortable— she  told,  as  briefly  as  possible,  the 
—  that  low  word  applicable  only  to  low  people,  bitter  truth. 

and  not  men  of  property,  who  have  a  right  to      Mr.  Ascott  listened,  apparently  without  sur- 

enjoy  all  the  good  thinjjp  of  this  life.     He  was  prise,  and  anr  how.  without   comment.     His 

scarcely   even  "merry,"    merely  "  comforta-  sell-important  loquacity   ceased,  and  his  con- 

ble,"  in   that  cezy,   benevolent   state    which 'descending  siniie  passed  into  a  sharp,  reticent, 

middle  aged  or  elderly  genMemen  are  apt  to  fall  j business  look.     He  knitted  his  shaggy  brows, 

.into  after  a  good  dinner  and  good  wine,  when  j  contracted  that  coar3ely-hung,    but  "resolute 

J  they  have  no  mental   resources,  and  the  said  mouth,  in  which  lay  the  secret  of  his  success 

good  dinner  and   good  wine  constitutes  their  in  life,  buttoned   up   his  coat,  and  stuck  his 

best  notion  of  felicity.  j  hands  behind  him  over  his  coat-tails.     As  he 

Yet  wealth  and   comfort  are  not  things  to |>tood  there  on   his  own  hearth,  with  all   his 

be  despised.     Hilary  herself  was  not  insensiblejcomfortable  splendors  about  him— a  man  who 

to  the  pleasantness  of  this  warm,   well-lit,  I  had  made  his  own  money,  hardly  and  honest- 


66 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


ly,  who  l'rom  the  daya  when  he  was  a  poor  it  from  his  footman's  hands,  it  way  one  of  iru- 
errand-lad  had  had  no  one  to  trust  to  but  him-  portance.  He  made  some  sort  of  rough  apol- 
self,  yet  had  managed  always  to  help  himself,  ogy,  drew  the  writing  materials  to  him,  wrote 
ay,  and  others  too — Hilary's  steni  sense  of  one  or  two  business-looking  letters,  and  made 
justice  contrasted  hiin  \vith  the  graceful  young  out  one  or  two  more  checks, 
man  who  sat  opposite  to  him,  so  much  his  "  Here's  your's  Ascott:  take  it,  and  let  me 
inferior,  and  so  much  his  debtor.  She  owned  have  done  with  it,"  said  he,  throwing  it  across 
that  Peter  Ascott  had  a  right  to  look  both  con- the  table  folded  up.  "Can't  waste  time  on 
temptuously  and  displeased.  Bucb.  small  transactions.     Ma'am,  excuse  me, 

"A  very  pretty  story,  but  I  almostexpected'but  five  thousand  pounds  depends  on  my  get- 
it,"  said  he.  ting  these  letters  written  and  sent  off  within  a 

And  there  he  stopped.     In  his  business  ca- quarter  of  an  hour." 
pacity  he  was  too  acute  a  man  to  be  a  man  of      Hilary  bent  her  bead,  and  sat  watching  the 
many  words,  and  his  feelings,  if  they  existed,  pen  scratch,  and  the  clock  tick  on  the  mantle- 
were  kept  to  himself.  piece  ;  thinking  if  this  really  was  to  be  the  last 

"It  all  comes  to  this,  young  man,"  he  con-  of  his  godfather's  allowance?  what  on  earth 
tinued,  after  an  uncomfortable  pause,  in  which  would  become  of  Ascott?  For  Ascott  himself, 
Hilary  could  have  counted  every  beat  of  her  he  said  not  a  word.  Xot  even  when,  the  let- 
heart,  and  even  Ascott  played  with  his  -wine  ter$  dispatched.  Mr.  Ascott  rose,  and  admin- 
glass  in  a  nervous  kind  of  way — "you  want  istering  a  short,  sharp  homily,  tacitly  dismiss- 
money,  and.  you  think  I'm  sure  to  give  it,  be-  ed  his  visitors.  Whether  this  silence  was 
cause  it  wouldn't  be  pleasant  just  now  to  have  sullenness,  cowardice,  or  shame,  Hilary  could 
discreditable  stories   going   about   concerning  not  guess. 

the  future  Mrs.  Ascott's  relatives.  You're  She  quitted  thB  house  with  a  sense  of  grind- 
quite  right,  it  wouldn't.  But  I'm  too  old  a  ing  humiliation  almost  intolerable.  But  still 
bird  to  be  caught  with  chaff  for  all  that.  You  the  worst  was  over:  the  money  had  been 
must  rise  very  early  in  the  morning  to  take;  begged  and  given — there  was  no  fear  of  a 
me  in."  prison.     And  spite  of  every  thing,  Hilary  felt 

Hilary  started  up  in  an  agony  of  shame,  a  certain  relief  that  this  was  the  last  time 
"  That's  not  fair,  Mr.  Ascott.  We  do  not  takej  Ascott  would  be  indebted  to  his  godfather, 
you  in.  Have  we  not  told  you  the  whole!  Perhaps  this  total  cessation  of  extraneous  help 
truth?  I  was  determined  you  should  knowit, might  force  the  young  man  upon  his  own  rc- 
before  we  asked  you  for  one  farthing  of  your |.sourees,  compel  his  easy  temperament  into 
money.     If  there  were  the  smallest  shadow  of  active  energy,  and  bring  out  in  him  those  dor- 


a  chance  for  Ascott  imany  other  way,  we 
never  would  have  come  to  you  at  all.  It  is  a 
horrible,  horrible  humiliation  !" 

It  mijrht  be   that   Peter   Ascott  had   a  soft 


mant  qualities  that  his  aunts  still  fondly  hoped 

existed  in  him. 

"  Don't  be  down-hearted,  Ascott,"  she  said; 

'■  we  will  manage  to  get  on  somehow  till  you 
place  inliis  heart,  or   that  this  time,  just  be-jhear  of  a  practice,  and  then  you  must  work — 
tore  his  marriage,  was  the   one  crisis   which  work  like  a  'brick,'  as  you  call  it.     You  will, 
sometimes  occurs  in  a  hard  man's  life,  when,  I  know." 
if  the  right  touch  comes,  he  becomes  malleable      He  answered  nothing. 


ever  after;  out  he  looked  kindly   at  ihe  poor 
girl,  and  said,  in  quite  a  gentle  way, 

"  Don't  vex  yourself,  my  dear.     I  shall  give 


I  won't  let  you  give  in,  my  boy,"  she 
went  on,  kindly.  {'Who  would  ever  dream 
of-  giving   in    at  your   age,  with  health   and 


the  joung  fellow  what  he  wants:  nobody  everjstrength,  a  good  education,  and  no  incum- 
called  Peter  Ascott  stingy.  But  he  has  co&t prances  whatever — not  even  aanW!  for  we 
me  enough  already  ;  he  must  shift  for  himself,  will  nut  stand  in  your  way,,  be  sure  of  that. 
now.  Hand  me  over  that  check-book,  Ascott-  I  fyou  can  not  settle  here,  you  shall  try  to  get 
but  remember  this  is  the  last  you'll  eve*  see  out  abroad,  as  you  have  sometimes  wished,  as 
of  my  money."  .'in  army  surgeon  or  a  ship's   doctor;  you  say 

lie  wrote  the    memorandum  of  the  check  these  appointments  are  easy  euough  tobehad. 
le  the  page,  then  tore  off  the  check  itself,! Why  not  try?     Any  thing;  we    will  consent, 
and  proceeded    to    write  the  words  ''Twenty  to  any  tiling,  if  only  we  can  see  your  life  busy  ' 
pounds,"  date  it,  and   sign    it.  Gii  Inland  happy." 

the  signal  il    he  had  he  talked,  feeling  far  more  tenderly! 

ibe    honesi    name  "Peter  Ascott,"  and    was  to  him  in  his  forlorn  lency  than  when 

wellawareof  its  monetary  value  on  '< '  bey  had  i  the  house  two  hours  before! 

I  elsewhere.  Jpott  took  not  the   slightest   notice.     Aj 

"There,  Miss  Halary,  I  flatter  myself  that's  strange  lit  of  sullenness  or  depression  seemed 
not  a  bad  signature,  nor  would  bf  ,-:iy  forg- to  have   come  over    Mm,   which,  when    they, 
ed.     Onecannotbetoocareful  over—    What'.:  reached  home  and  met  Aunt  Johanna's  silent-3 
that?  a  letter,  John?"  h -questioning   face,  changed  into  devil-may. 

\iy  his  extreme  eagernees,  almost  snatching, care  indifference, 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


67 


"  Oh  yes,  aunt,  we've  done  it ;  we've  got 
the  money,  and  now  I  may  go  to  the  dogs  as 
soon  as  I  lik 

"No,"  said  Aunt  Hilary,  "it  ia  nothing  of 
the  port  :  it  is  only  that  Ascotl  muel  now  de- 
pend upon  himself,  and  not  upon  his  godfather. 
Take  courage,*1  she  added,  and  went  up  to 
him  and  kissed  him  on  the  forehead  ;  -'we'll 
never  let  our  boy  Lr"   to  the  :;d.  as  for 

this  disappointment,  or   any  disappointment, 
why  it's  just  like  a   cold  bath,  it   takes 
your  breath  for  the  time,  and  then  you  ri 
out  of  it  brisker  and  fresher  than  ever." 

But  Ascott  shook  his  head  with  a  fierce  de- 
nial. "  Why  should  that  old  fellow  be  as  rich 
as  i  Sroesua  and  1  as  poor  as  a  rat  ?  Why  should 
I  be  put  into  the  world  to  enjoy  myself)  and 
can't?  Why  was  I  made  like  what  I  am, 
and  then  punished  for  it?  Whose  fault  is 
it  ?" 

Ay,  iohoteP  The  eternal,  unsolvable  prob- 
lem rose  up  before  Hilary's  imagination.  The 
ghastly  spectre  of  that  everlasting  doubt,  which 
haunts  even  the  firmest  faith  sometimes — and 
which  all  the  nonsense  written  about  that 
mystery  which, 

'•'liinding  unture  fate  to  fate, 
Leaves  free  the  human  will," 

only  makesdarker  than  before — oppressed  her 
for  the  time  being  with  an  inexpressible  dread. 

Ay,  why  was  it  that  the  boy  was  what  he 
was?  From  his  inherited  nature,  his  temper- 
ament, or  his  circumstances '.'  What,  or  more 
awful  question  still,  ivko  was  to  blame? 

But  as  Hilary's  thoughts  went  deeper  down 
the  question  answered  itself — at    least  as    far 
as  it  ever  can  be   answered  in  this  narrow,  fi- 
nite stage  of  being.    Whose  will— we  dare  not 
say  whose  blame — is  it  that  evil  must  it; 
bly  generate    evil?  that  the    smallest   wrong- 
doing in    any  human  being  rouses  a  chain  of 
results  which  may  fatally  involve  other  human 
beings   in   an    almost    incalculable   circle    ofj 
misery?     The  wages  of  sin   is  death.     Were 
it  not  so  sin  would  cease  to  be  sin.  and  holiness,1 
holiness.     If  He.  the    All-holy,  who  for  some' 
inscrutable  purpose  saw"  tit  to  allow  the  exist- 
ence of  evil,  allowed  any  other  law  than  this, 
in  either  the  spiritual  or  material  world,  would  I 
He  no/  be  denying  l\  imself,  counteracting  the 
necessities  of  His  own   righteous   essence,  to 
which  evil  is  so  antagonistic,  that  we  can  not' 
doubt  it  must  be  in  the  end  cast  into  total  an- 
nihilation— into  the  allegorical  lake  of  are  and 
brimstone,    which    i-    the  "second    death?" 
Xay,  do  they  not  in  reality  deny  ITim  and  His' 
holiness  almost  as'  much  as  Atheists  do,  who 
preach  that  the  one  great  salvation  which  He 
ha'  sent  into  the  world    is  a  salvation 
punishment — a  keeping  out  ot  hell  and  getting' 
into  heaven — instead  of  a  salvation 
from  the  power  and    love  of  sin,  through  the 
love  of  God  in  Christ? 

I  tell  these  thoughts,  because  like  lightning! 


they  passed  through  Hilary's  mind,  as  some- 
times a  whole  chain  of  thoughts  do,  link  after 
link,  and  because  they  helped  her  to  answer 
her  nephew  quietly  and  briefly,  for  she  saw 
in  no  state  of  mind  to  be  argued  with. 

••  1  can  not  explain,  Ascott,  why  it  is  that 
f  us  are  what  we  are,  and  why  things 
■n  to  Us  as  they  do  ;  it  is  a  question  we 
none  of  us  understand,  and  in  this  world  never 
shall.  But  if  we  know  what  we  ought  to  be, 
and  how  we  may  make  the  best  of  every  thing, 
good  or  bad,  that  happens  to  us,  surely  that 
is  enough  without  perplexing  ourselves  about 
anv  thins;  more." 

Ascott  smiled,  half  contemptuously,  half 
carelessly,  he  was  not  a  young  fellow  likely 
to  perplex  himself  long  or  deeply  about  these 
sort  of  things. 

"  Any  how,  I've  got  £20  in  my  pocket,  so 
I  can't  starve  for  a  day  or  two.  Let's-  see: 
where  is  it  to  be  cashed?  Hillo!  who  would 
have  thought  the  old  fellow  would  have  been 
so  stupid?     Look  there,  Aunt  Hilary!" 

She  was  so  unfamiliar  with  checks  for  £20, 
poor  little  woman  !  that  she  did  not  at  first 
recognize  the  omission  of  the  figures  ".£20" 
at  the  left-hand  corner.  Otherwise  the  check- 
was  correct.  . 

"  Ho,  ho  ¥f  laughed  Ascott,  exceedingly 
amused,  so  easily  was  the  current  of  his  mind 
changed.  "It  must  have  been  the  £5000 
pending  that  muddled  the  'cute  old  fellow's 
brains.  I  wonder  whether  he  will  lemember 
it  afterward,  and  come  posting  up  to  see  that 
I've  taken  no  ill-advantage  of  hi3  blunder: 
changed  .this  'Twenty'  into  'Seventy.'  I 
easily  could,  and  put  the  figures  £10  here. 
What  a  good  joke !" 

"  Had  ye"  not  better  go  to  him  at  once,  and 
ha^e  the  matter  put  right  1" 

"  Bubbish  !  1  can  put  it  right  myself.  It 
makes  no  difference  who  fills  up  a  check,  so 
that  it  i3  signed  all  correct.  A  deal  you  wo- 
men know  of  business !" 

But  still  Hilary,  with  a  certain  womanish 
uneasiuess  about  money  matters,  and  an  anx- 
iety to  have  the  thing  settled  beyond  doubt, 
urged  him  to  go. 

"  Very  well ;  just  as  you  like.  I  do  believe 
you  are  afraid  of  my'turning  forger." 

He  buttoned  his  coat  with  a  half  sulky,  half 
defiant  air,  left  his  supper  untasted,  and  dis- 
appeared. 

It  was  midnight  before  he  returned.  His 
aunts  were  still  sitting  up,  imagining  all  sorts 
of  horrors,  in  an  anxiety  too  great  for  words  ; 
but  when  Hilary  ran  to  the  door,  with  the 
natural  "Oh,  Ascott,  where  have  vou  been?" 
he  pushed  her  aside  with  a  gesture  that  was 
almost  fierce  in  its  repulsion. 

"Where  have  I  been?  taking  a  walk  round 
the  Park  ;  that's  all.  Can't  I  come  and  go 
as  I  like,  without  being  pestered  by  women  ? 
I'm  horribly  tired.    Let  me  alone — do  I" 


68 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID'. 


They  did  let  him  alone.  Deeply  wounded,  ;tutes  real  dignity  or  authority,  She  had,  is 
Aunt  Johanna  took  no  further  notice  of  him  point  of  fact,  no  authority  ovsr  him  ;  a#  one 
than  to  set  his  chair  a  little  closer  to  the  fire, lean  have,  not  even  parents,  over  a  young  man 
and  Aunt  Hilary  slipped  down  stairs  for  more  of  his  age,  except  that  personal  influence 
coals.  There  6he  found  Elizabeth,  who  they  which  is  the  strongest  sway  of  all. 
thought  had  long  since  gone  to  bed,  sitting  on  She  said  only,  with  a  quietness  that  sur- 
the  stairs,  very  sleepy,  but  watching  still.  prised  herself—"  You  mistake,  Ascott ;  I  have 

"Is  he  come  in?"  she  aeked ;  "  because ,  no  wish  to  interfere  with  you  whatever;  you 
there  are  more  bailiffs  after  him.  I'm  sure  of  are  your  own  master,  and  must  take  your  own 
it;  I  saw  them."  (course.     I  only  expect  from  you  the  ordinary 

This,  then,  might  account  for  his  keeping  respect   that  a  gentleman  shows  t©  a  lady, 
out  of  the  way   till  after  twelve  o'clock,  and  You  must  be  very  tired  and  ill,  or  you  would 
also  for  his  wild,  haggard  look.     Hilary  jut  I  not  have  forgotten  that." 
aside  her  vague  dread  of  some  new  misfortune;}     "  I  didn't ;  or,  if  I  did,  I  beg  your  pardon," 
assured  Elizadeth  that  all  was  right :  he  had  said  he,  half  subdued.     "  When  are  you  going 


got  wherewithal  to  pay  every  body  on  Monday 
morning,  and  would  be  safe  till  then.  All 
debtors  were  safe  on  Sunday. 

"Go  to  bed  now — there's  a  good  girl ;  it  is 
hard  that  you  should  be  troubled  with  our 
troubles." 


to  bed?" 

"  Directly.    Shall  I  lightyour  candle  also?" 
"Oh  no;  not  for  the  world  ;  I  couldn't  deep 

a  wink.     I'd  go  mad  if  I  went  to  bed.     I  think 

I'll  turn  out  and  hare  a  cigar." 
His  whole  manner  was  so  strange  that  his 


Elizabeth  looked  up  with  those  fond  gray  Aunt  Johanna,  who  had  sat  aloof,  Urribly 
eyes  of  hers.  She  was  but  a  servant,  and  yet  grieved,  but  afraid  to  interfere,  was  moved  to 
looks  like  these  engraved  themselves  inefface-  rise  up  and  go  over  to  him. 


ably  on  her   mistress's   heart,    imparting  the 


"  Ascott,  my  dear,  you  are  looking  quite  ill. 


comfort  that  all  pure  love  gives  from  any  onelBe  advised  by  your  old  auntie.  Go  to  bed  at 
human  being  to  another.  Jonce,  and  forget  every  thing  till  morning." 

And  love  has  its  wonderful  rights  and  re-j     "I  wish   I  cauld;  I   wish   I  could.    Oh, 
wards.     Perhaps  Elizabeth,  who.thought  her-Auntie,  Auntie!" 

self  nothing  at  all  to  her  mistress,  would  havet  He  caught  hold  of  her  hand,  which  she  had 
marveled  to  know  how  much  closer  her  mis-|laid  upon  hit  head,  looked  up  a  rninuta-  into 
tress  felt  to  this  poor,  honest,  loving  girl,  whose1  her  kind,  fond  face,  and  burst  into  a  flood  of 
truth  she  believed  in,  and  on  whose  faithful-j boyish  tears. 

ness  she  implicitly  depended,  than  toward  heri  Evidently  his  trouble*  had  been  too  much 
own  flesh  and  blood,  who  sat  there  moodily  j  for  him;  he  wa9  in  a  state  of  great  excitement, 
over  the  hearth;  deeply  pitied,  seduously  For  some  minutes  hia  aobs  were  almost  hy»- 
cared  for,  but  as  for  being  confided  in.  relied  terical :  then  by  a  struggle  he  recovered  him- 
on,  in  great  matters  or  small,  his  own  con-  self,  seemed  exceedingly  annoyed  and  ashamed, 
cerns  or  theirs — the  thing  was  impossible.        took  up  his  candle,  bade  them  ahurried  good- 

They  could  not  even  ask  him — they  dared  night,  and  went  to  bed. 
not,  in  such  a  strange  mood  was  he — thesim-'  That  is,  he  went  to  his  room;  but  they 
pie  question,  Had  he  seen  Mr.  Ascott,  andheard  him  moving  about  overhead  for  a  long 
had  Mr.  Ascott  been  annoyed  aboutthe  check?iwhile  after;  nor  w«r&  they  surprised  that  he 
It  would  not  have  been  referred  to  at  all  hadjrefused  to  rise  next  morning,  but  lay  most  of 
not  Hilary,  in  holding  his  coat  to  dry,  taken  the  time  with  his  door  locked,  until  late  in 
his  pocket  book  outof  the  breast  pocket,  when'the  afternoon,  when  he  went  out  for  a  long 
he  snatched  at  ic  angrily.  walk,  and  did  not  return  till  supper,  which  he 

"What  are  you  meddling  with  my  things  ate  almost  in  6ilence.  Then,  after  going  up  to 
for?  Do  you  want  to  get  at  the  check,  andjhis  room,  and  coming  down  again,  complaia- 
be  peering  at  it  to  see  if  it's  all  right?  But  ing  bitterly  how  very  cold  it  was,  he  C,rept  in 
you  can't ;  I've  paid  it  away.  Perhaps  you'd  |  to  the  fireside  with  a  book-in  his  hann,  of 
like  to  know  who  to?  Then  you  shan't.  I'll  j  which  Hilary  noticed  he  scarcely  read  a  line, 
not  be  accountable  to  you  for  all  my  proceed-  His  aunts  said  nothing  to  him  ;  they  had 
ings.  I'll  not  be  treated  like  a  baby.  You'd  determined  not ;  they  felt  that  further  'inter- 
better  mind  what  you  are  about,  Aunt  Hilary."  ference  would  be  not  only  useless  but  dangerous. 

Never,  in  all   his  childish    naughtiness,  or      "He  will   come  to  himself  by-and-by ;  his 


boyish  impertinence,  had  Ascott  spoken  to 
her  in  such  a  tone.  She  regarded  him  at  first 
with  simple  astonishment,  then  hot  indigna- 
tion, which  spurred  her  on  to  stand  up  for  her 
dignity,  and  not  submit  to  be  insulted  by  her 
own  nephew.    But  then  came  back  upon  her 


moods,  goodor  bad,  never  last  long,  youknow," 
said  Hilary,  somewhat  bitterly.  "  But,  in  the 
mean  time,  I  think  we  had  better  just  do  as 
he  says — let  him  alone." 

And  in  that  sad,  hopelese  state  they  paeeed 
the  laet  hours  of  that  dreary  Sunday— afraid 


her  own   doctrine,  taught  by  her  own  experi-|  either  to  comfort  him  or  reason  wtthhina; 
ence,  that  character  and  conduct  alone  eonsti-  afraid,  above  aJL,  ta  blantbiat  lart  it-might 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


itiv*  him  altogether  Astray.  That  he  was  in 
a  atate  of  great 'raieery,  hall  sullen,  half  defi- 
ant, they  saw,  and  were  scarcely  surprised  at 
it ;  it  waB  very  hard  not  to  be  able  to  open 
their  loving  hearts  to  him,  as  those  of  one 
family  should  always  do,  making  every  trouble 
a  common  care,  and  every  joy  a  universal 
blessing.  But  in  his  present  state  of  mind — 
the  sudden  obstinacy  of  a  weak  nature  con- 
scious of  its  weakness,  and  dreading  control — 
it  seemed  impossible  either  to  break  upon  his 
silence  or  to  force  his  confidence. 

They  might  have  been  right  in  this,  or 
wrong;  afterward  Hilary  thought  the  latter. 
Many  a  time  she  wished  and  wished,  with  a 
bitter  regret,  that  instead  of  the  quiet  "  Good 
night,  Ascott !"  and  the  one  rather  cold  kiss 
on  his  forehead,  she  had  flung  her  arms  round 
his  neck,  and  insisted  on  his  telling  out  his 
whole  mind  to  her,  his  nearest  kinswoman, 
who  had  been  half  aunt  and  half  sister  to  him 
all  his  life.  But  it  was  not  done :  she  parted 
from  him,  as  she  did  Sunday  after  Sunday, 
with  a  sore  sick  feeling  of  how  much  he  might 
be  to  her,  to  them  all,  and  how  little  he  really 
was. 

If  this  silence  of  hers  was  a  mistake — one 
of  those  mistakes  which  sensitive  people 
sometimes  make — it  was,  like  all  similar  er- 
rors, only  too  sorrowfully  remembered  and 
atoned  for. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Thk  week  passed  by,  and  Hilary  received 
no  ill  tidings  from  home.  Incessant  occupa- 
tion kept  her  from  dwelling  too  much  on  anx- 
ious subjects :  besides,  she  would  not  have 
thought  it  exactly  right,  while  her  time  and 
her  mental  powers  were  for  so  many  hours 
per  diem  legally  Miss  Balquidder's,  to  waste 
the  one  and  weaken  the  other  by  what  is 
commonly  called  "fretting."  Noncarrying 
this  conscientious  duty  to  a  higher  degree, 
and  toward  a  higher  Master,  would  she  have 
dared  to  sit  grieving  overmuch  over  their  dark 
future.  And  yet  it  was  very  dark.  She  pon- 
dered over  what  was  to  be  done  with  Ascott, 
or  whether  he  was  still  to  be  left  to  the  hope- 
less hope  of  doing  something  for  himself:  how 
long  the  little  establishment  at  No.  15  eould 
he  kept  together,  or  if,  after  Selina's  marriage, 
it  would  not  be  advisable  to  make  some  change 
that  should  contract  expenses,  and  prevent 
this  hard  separation,  from  Monday  to  Satur- 
day, between  Johanna  and  herself. 

These,  with  equally  anxious  thoughts,  at- 
tacked her  in  crowds  every  day  and  every 
hour;  but  she  had  generally  sufficient  will  to 
put  them  aside :  at  least  till  after  work  was 
done,  and  they  could  neither  stupefy  nor  par- 
alyse bar.      T-reubla-  had   to  her  been  long 


enough  familiar  to  have  taught  her  its  own 
best  lesson — that  the  mind  can,  in  degree,  rule 
itself,  even  as  it  rules  the  body. 

Thus,  in  her  business  duties,  which  were 
principally  keeping  accounts;  in  her  manage- 
ment of  the  two  young  people  under  her,  and 
of  the  small  domestic  establishment  connected 
with  the  shop,  Hilary  went  steadily  on,  day 
after  day  ;  made  no  blunders  in  her  arithme- 
tic, no  mistakes  in  her  housekeeping.  Being 
new  to  all  her  responsibilities,  she  had  to  give 
her  whole  mind  to  them  ;  and  she  did  it :  and 
it  was  a  blessing  to  her — the  sanctified  bless- 
ing which  rests  upon  labor,  almost  seeming  to 
neutralize  its  primeval  curse. 

But  night  after  night,  when  work  wag  over, 
she  sat  alone  at  her  6ewing  —the  only  time  she 
had  for  it— and  her  thoughts  went  faster  than 
her  needle.  .She  turned  over  plan  after  plan. 
and  went  back  upon  hope  after  hope,  that  had 
risen  and  broken  like  waves  of  the  sea — no- 
thing happening  that  she  had  expected;  the 
only  thing  which  had  happened,  or  which 
seemed  to  have  any  permanence  or  reality, 
being  two  things  which  she  had  never  expect- 
ed at  all — Selina's  marriage,  and  her  own 
engagement  with  Miss  Balquidder.  It  often 
happens  so,  in  most  people's  lives,  until  at 
last  they  learn  to  live  on  from  day  to  day,  do- 
ing each  day's  duty  within  the  day,  and  be- 
lieving that  it  is  a  righteous  as  well  as  a  tender 
hand  which  keeps  the  next  day's  page  safely 
folded  down. 

So  Hilary  sat,  glad  to  have  a  quiet  hour, 
not  to  grieve  in,  but  to  lay  out  the  details  of  a 
plan  which  had  been  maturing  in  her  mind 
all  week,  and  which  she  meant  definitely  to 
propose  to  Johanna  when  she  went  home  next 
day.  It  would  cost  her  something  to  do  so, 
and  she  had  had  some  hesitations  ae  to  the 
scheme  itself,  until  at  last  she  threw  them  all 
to  the  winds,  as  an  honest-hearted,  faithful 
and  faithfully-trusting  woman  would.  Her 
plan  was,  that  they  should  write  to  the  only 
real  friend  the  family  had — the  only  good  man 
she  believed  in — stating  plainly  their  troubles 
and  difficulties  about  their  nephew  ;  asking  his 
advice,  &  possibly  his  help.  He  might  know  of 
something — some  opening  for  a  young  surgeon 
in  India,  or  some  temporary  appointment  for 
the  voyage  out  and  home,  which  might  catch 
Ascott's  erratic  and  easily  attracted  fancy  ; 
give  him  occupation  for  the  time  being,  and 
at  least  detach  him  from  his  present  life,  with 
all  its  temptations  and  dangers. 

Also,  it  might  result  in  bringing  the  boy 
again  under  that  influence  which  had  been  so 
beneficial  to  him  while  it  lasted,  and  which 
Hilary  devoutly  believed  was  the  best  influ- 
ence in  the  world.  WaB  it  unnatural,  if,  min- 
gled with  an  earnest  desire  for  Ascott's  good, 
was  an  under-lying  delight  that  that  good 
should  be  done  to  him  by  Robert  Lyon  ? 

So  when  her  plan  was  made,  even  to  the  very 


70 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


words  in  which  she  meant  to  unfold  it  to  .To-  "  I  will  explain,  if  you  will  allow  me  to  sit 
hanna,  and  the  very  form  in  which  Johanna  down  ;  bah  !  I've  brought  in  sticking  to  me  a 
should  write  the  letter,  she  allowed  herself  a  straw  out  of  that  confounded  shaky  old  cab. 
few  brief  minutes  to  think  of  him — Robert  One  ought  never  to  be  so  stupid  as  to  go  any 
Lyon — to  call  up  his  eyes,  his  voice,  his  smile:  where  except  in  one's  own  carriage.  This  is 
to  count,  for  the  hundreth  time,  how  many  rather  a  small  room,  Miss  Hilary." 
months — one  less  than  twenty-tour,  60  she  He  eyed  it  curiously  round  :  and,  lastly, 
could  not  say  years  now — it  woild  be  before  with  his  most  acute  look  he  eyed  herself,  as  if 
lie  returned  to  England.  Also,  to  speculate! he  wished  to  fiDd  out  something  from  her 
when  and  where  they  would  first  meet,  and  manner,  before  going  into  further  explana- 
how  he   would  speak  the    one  word — all  that  tions. 

was  needful  to  change  "  liking  "  into  "love,"  But  she  stood  before  him  a  little  uneasy,  and 
and  "friend"  into  "wife."  They  had  so  yet  not  very  much  so.  The  utmost  she  ex- 
grown  together  during  so  many  years,  not  the  pected  was  some  quarrel  with  her  sister  Selina: 
less  so  during  these  years  of  absence,  that  it, perhaps  the  breaking  off  of  the  match,  which 
seemed  as  if  suchachange  would  hardly  make  would  not  have  broken  Hilary's  heart  at  all 
any  difference.     And   yet — -and    yet — as    she  events. 

sat  and  sewed,  wearied  with  her  day's  labors,!  "  So  you  have  really  no  idea  what  I'm  come 
sad  and  perplexed,  she   thought — if  only,  by  about  I" 


<om'e  strange  magic,  Robert  Lyon  were  stand- 
ing opposite,  holding  open  his  arms,  ready  and1 


f  Not  the  slightest." 
Well!"    said    Peter 


Ascott,    "  I    hardly 


glad  to  take  her  and  all  her  cares  to  his  heart,  thought  it  :  but  when  one  has    been  taken  in 
how  she  would  cling  there !  how    closely  she  as  I  have  been,  and  this  isn't  the  first  time  by 


would  creep  to  him,  weeping  with  joy  and  con 
tent,  neither  afraid  nor  ashamed  to  let  him  see 
how  dearly  she  loved  him  ! 

<  >nly  a  dream  !  ah,  only  a    dream  !  and  she 


vour  family- 

l,Mr.  Ascott !  will  you  explain  yourself?" 
"I  will,    ma'am.     It's    a    very    unpleasant 
1  business  I  come   about;  any  other  gentleman 
started  from  it  at  the  sharp  sound  of  the  door-;  but  me  would  have  come  with  a  police  officer 
bell — started,  blushing  and  trembling,  as  if  it  at  his  back.     Look  here,  Miss  Hilary  Leaf— ' 
had  been  Robert  Lyon  himself,  when  she  knew 'did  you  ever  set  eyes  ou  this  before.  ?" 
it  was  only    her  two   young  assistants  whomi      He  took  out  his  check  book,  turned  delibe- 
she  had  ailowed  to  go  out  to  tea  in  the  neigh-  rately  over  the  small  memorandum  halves  of 
borhood.     So  she  settled  herself  to   her  work j the  page,  till  he   came  to  one   in   particular, 
again:   put  all  her  own  thoughts  by  in  their  then  hunted  in  his  pocket  book  for  something, 
little  private   corners,  and    waited  for  the  en-1     "  My  banker   sent    in  to-day    my    canceled 
trance  and  the  harmless  gossip'of  these  two  checks,  which  I  don't  usually  go  over  oftener 
orphan  girls,  who  were  already   beginning  to  than  three  months  ;  he  knew  that,  the  scamp!" 
love  her.   and  make   a   friend  of  her.  and  to-      Hilary  looked  up. 
ward  whom  she  felt  herself  quite  an  elderly:     "  Your  nephew,  to  be  sure.     See!" 
and  responsible  person.     Poor  little   Hilary!      He  spread  before  her  a  check,  the  very  one 
It  seemed  to  be  her  lot  always  to  take  care  .of  she  had  watched  him  write  seven  days  before, 
somebody  or  other.     Would  it   ever   be  tbatlmade  payable   to  "Ascott    Leaf,  or  bearer." 
any  body  should  take  care  of  her?  andsigned  with  the  bold,    peculiar  signature. 

So -be  cleared    away  some  of  her    needle   "Peter    Ascott."      Only   instead    of  being   a 
work,  stirred    the    fire,  which    was   dropping! check  for  twenty  pounds  it  was  fur  seventy, 
hollow  and  dull,  and  looked  up  pleasanth    to      Instantly  the  whole  truth  flashed  upon  Hila- 
t he  opening  door.     But    it   was  not  the  girls  :'ry  :   Ascott's  remark  about  how  easily  the  T 
it  was  a  man's  foot  and  a  man's  voice.  could  be  made  into   an  S,  and  what    a  "good 

"Any  person  of  the  name  of  Leaf  living  joke"  it  .would  be:  his  long  absence  that  night: 
here?     I  wish  to  see  her.  on  business."  his  strange  manner:  his  refusal  to  let  her  see 

At  another  time  she  would  have  laughed  at  the  check  again.:  all  was  clear  as  daylight. 
the  manner  and  words,  as  if  it  were  impc  Unfortunate  boy!  the  temptation  had  beeu 

ble  so  great  a  gentleman  as  Mr.  Ascott  could'too  strdng  for  him.  Under  what  sudden,  m- 
want  to  see  so  small  a  person  as  the.  "  person  sane  impulse  he  had  acted — under  what  delu- 
o(  the  name  of  Leaf."  except  on  business.ision  of  being  able  to  repay  in  time  ;  or  of  Mr. 
But  now  she  was  startled  by  his  appearance  Ascott's  not  detecting  the  fraud  ;  oi  ifdiscov- 
at  all.  She  sprang  up  only  able  to  articulate  ered,  of  its  being  discovered  after  the  marriage, 
"  My  sister — "  when  to  prosecute  his  wife's  nephew  would  be 

"  Don't  be  frightened:  your  sisters  are  quite  a  disgrace  to  himself,  could  never  be  known, 
well.     I  called  at  No.  15  an  hour  ago."  But  there  unmistakable  was  the  altered  check. 

"You  saw  them?"  jwhich  had  been  presented  and  paid,  the  bank- 

"  No  ;  I  thought  it  unadvisable,  under  the'er  of  course  not  having  the  slightest  suspicion 


circumstances." 

"What  circumstances?" 


of  any  thing  amiss. 
"  Well,  isn't  this  a  nice  return   for  all  my 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


71 


kindness ?  So  cleverly  done,  too.  But  for  thelof  him  as  what  he  was — swindler,  forger,  uu- 
merest  chance  I  might  not  have  found  it  out  grateful  to  his  benefactors,  a  disgrace,  to  his 
for  three  months.     Oh,  he's  a  precious  young  home  and    family.     She   saw   only   the    boy 

Ascott,  with   his    bright  looks  and    pleasant 
ways,  whom  his  aunts  had   biought   up  from 


rascal,  this  nephew  of  yours.  His  father  was 
only  a  fool,  but  he—  Do  you  know  that  this 
is  :)  matter  of  forgery — forgery,  ma'am,"  add-  his  cradle,  and  loved  with  all  his  faults- 


ed  Mr.  Ascott,  waxing  hot  in  his  indignation 

Hilary  uttered  a  bitter  groan. 

Yes,  it  was  quite  true.  Their  Ascott,  their 
own  boy.  was  no  longer  merely  idle,  extrava- 
gant, thoughtless — faults  bad  enough,  but  ca 


-per- 


haps  level   still.      "Oh,    I   must   go   home. 
This  will  break  Johanna's  heart!" 

Mr.  Peter  Aecott  possibly  never  had  a  heart, 
or  it  had  been  so  Stunted  in  its  growth  that  it 
had  never  reached  its  fair  development.     Yet 


pable  of  being  mended  as  he  grew  older:  he  he  felt  sorry  in  his  way  for  the  "  young  per- 
haddone  that  which  to  the  end  of  his  days  he  son,"  who  looked  so  deadly  white,  yet  tried 
could  never  blot  out.  He  was  a  swindler  and  so  hard  not  to  make  a  scene  ;  nay,  when  her 
a  torger.  two  assistants  came  into  the  one  little  parlor. 

She  clasped  her  hands  tightly  together,  as  deported  herself  with  steady  composure;  told 
one  struggling  with  sharp  physical  pain,  try-  them  that  she  was  obliged  suddenly  to  go 
iug  to  read  the  expression  of  Mr.  Ascott's  face,  home,  but  would  be  back,  if  possible,  the  next 
At  last  she  put  her  question  into  words.  morning.     Then,  in  that  orderly,  accurate  wayr 

"What  do  you  mean  to  do?  £hall  you  which  l?eter  Ascott  could  both  understand  and 
prosecute  him ?"  appreciate,    she   proceeded   to    arrange  with 

Mr.  Ascott  crossed  his  legs,  and  settled  his  them  about  the  shop  and  the   house  in  case 


neckcloth  with  a  self-satisfied  air.  He  evident- 
ly rather  enjoyed  the  importance  of  his  posi- 
tion.    To  be  dictator,  almost  of  life  and  death, 


she  might  be  detained  till  Monday. 

"  You're  not  a  bad    woman   of  business," 
said  he,  with  a  patronizing  air.     "This  seems 


to  this  unfortunate  family  was  worth  certainly  a  tidy  little  idiop ;  I  dare  say  vou'll  get  on  in 
fifty  pounds.  'it."  * 

•'  Well,  1  haven't  exactly  determined.  The,  She  looked  at  him  with  a  bewildered  air, 
money,  you  see,  is  of  no  moment  to  me,  and  I  and  went  on  speaking  to  the  young  woman  at 
couldn't  get  it  back  any  how.     He'll  never  be  the  door. 

worth  a  half-penny,  that  rascal.  I  might  "  How  much  might  your  weekly  receipts  be 
prosecute,  and  nobody  would  blame  me ;  in- in  a  place  like  this?  And  what  salary  does 
deed,  if  I  were  to  decline  marrying  your  sister,  Miss — Miss  What's-her-name  give  to  each  of 
and  cut  the  whole  set  of  you,  I  don't  see,"  and  you?  You're  the  head  shop-woman,  I  sup- 
he  drew  himself  up,  "  that  any  thing  could  be  j  pose?" 
said  against  me.     But — "  Hilary  made  no  answer  ;  she  scarcely  heard. 

Perhaps,  hard  man  as  he  was,  be  was  All  her  mind  was  full  of  but  one  thing":  "Nev- 
touched  by  the  agony  of  suspense  in  Hilary's  er  see  Ascott  any  more  !"  There  came  back 
face,  for  he  added.  upon  her  all  the  dreadful  stories  she  had  ever 

"Come,  come,  I  won't  disgrace  your  family:  heard  of  lads  who  had  committed  forgery  or 
I  won't  do  any  thing  to  harm  the  fellow."        some  similar  offense,  and,  in  dread  of  punish- 

" Thank  you!"  said  Hilary,  in  a  mechani-:ment,  had  run  away  in  despair,  and  never 
cal,  unuatural  voice.  been  heard  of  for  years — come  to  every  kind  of 

"As  for  my  mone/,  he'i  welcome  to  it,  and  i  misery,  perhaps  even  destroyed  themselves. 
much- good  may  it  do  him.  'Set  a  beggar  on  [The  impression  was  so  horribly  vivid,  that 
•  horseback,  and  he'll  ride  to  the  devil,'  and  in  when,  pausing  an  instant  in  putting  her  books 
double  quick  time  too.  1  won't  hinder  him.  in  their  places,  she  heard  the  door  bell  ring 
I  wash  my  hands  of  the  young  scape-grace.  Hilary  with  difficulty  repressed  a  scream. 
But  he'd  better  not  come  near  me  again."  But  it  was  no  messenger  of  dreadful  tiding-. 

"No,"  acquiesced  Hilary,  absently.  it  was  only    Elizabeth   Hand;  and  the   quiet 

"In  fact,"  said  Mr.  Ascott,  with  a  twinkle  fashion  in  which  she  entered  showed  Hilarv 
of  his  sharp  eye,  "  I  have  already  taken  mea-  at  once  that- nothing  dreadful  had  happened  at 
eures  to  frighten  him    away,  so  that  he  may  bom 

make  himself  scarce,  and  give  neither  you  nor      "Oh  no,  .  has  happened,"  confirmed 

me  any  farther  trouble.     1  drove  up  to  your! the  girl.      'On!  Leaf  sent  me  to  see  if 

door  with  a  policeman,  asked  to  see  Mr.  Leaf,  you  could  come  home    to  night  instead  of  to- 
aud  when  1  heard   that  he  was  out — a  lie,  of  morrow:     She  is  quite   well,   that  is,    pretty 

rse     I  left    word  1  d    be  back  in    half  an  well;  but  Mr.  Leaf—" 
hour.     Depend  upon  it,"  and  he  winked  con-      Here,  catching  sight  ot  Miss  Hilary's  vie.it- 
fidentially,  "he  will  smell  a  rat,  and  make  a  or,  Elizabeth  stopped  short.     Peter  Ascott  was 
moonlight  flitting  of  it,  and    we  shall    never  one  of  her  prejudice-.     She  determined  in  his 
hear  of  him  any  more."  presenceto  let  out  no  more  of  the  family  affaire. 

"  Never  hear  of  Ascott  any  more  .'"  repeated  On  his  part,  Mr.  Ascott  had  always  treated 
Hilary  ;  and  for  an  instant  she  ceased  to  think  Elizabeth  as  people  like  him  usually  do  treat 


Ti> 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


servants,  afraid  to  lose  an  inch  of  their  dignity,)     "  Come,  my  wench,  you'J  belter  tell ;  it'll 
lest  it  should  be  an  acknowledgment  of  equal' be  none  the  worse  for  you,  and  it  shan't  harm 
birth  and  breeding  with  the  class  from  which ! the  young  fellow,  though  I  dare  say  he  hae 
they  are  so  terribly  ashamed  to  have  sprung. 'paid  you  well  for  holding  your  tongue." 
He  regarded  her  now  with  a  lordly  air.  "About  what,  sir?" 

"Young   woman — I    believe   you  are  the;     "Oh!  you  know  what  happened  when  you 
young  woman  who  this  afternoon  told  me  that| told  him  I   had  called,  eh?    Servants  get  to 
Mr.  Leaf  was  out.     It  was  a  fib,  of  course."    know  all  about  their  master's  affaire." 
Elizabeth  turned  round  indignantly.     "  No,      "  Mr.  Leaf  isn't  my  master,  and  his  affaire 


message  when 


he 


was 

not 
In 


Sir  ;  I  don't  tell  fibs.     He  was  out ,; 

"  Did  you  give  him   my 
came  in?" 

"  Yes,  Sir." 

"  And  what  did  he  say,  eh  ?" 

"  Nothing." 

This  was  the  literal  fact;  but  there 
something  behind  which  Elizabeth  had 
the  slightest  intention  of  communicating, 
fact,  she  set  herself,  physically  and  mentally, 
in  an  attitude  of  dogged  resistance  to  any 
pumping  of  Mr.  Ascott ;  for  though,  as  sheUiad 
truly  said,  nothing  special  had  happened,  she 
felt  sure  that  he  was  at  the  bottom  of  some- 
thing which  had  gone  wrong  in  the  household 
that  afternoon. 

It  was  this.  When  Ascott  returned,  and 
she  told  him  of  his  godfather's  visit,  the  young 
man  had  suddenly  turned  so  ghastly  pale  that 
she  had  to  fetch  him  aglass  of  water ;  and  his 
Aunt  Johanna — Miss  Selina  was  out — had  to 
tend  him  and  soothe  him  for  several  minutes 
before  he  was  right  again.  When  at  last  he 
seemed  returning  to  his  natural  self,  he  look- 
ed wildly  up  at  his  aunt,  and  clung  to  her  in 
such  an  outburst  of  feeling,  that  Elizabeth  had 


are  nothing  to  me  ;  I  don't  pry  into  'em,"  re- 
plied Elizabeth.  "If  you  want  to  know  any 
thing,  Sir,  handn't  you  better  ask  himself? 
He's  at  home  to-night.  I  left  him  and  »y 
missus  going  to  their  tea." 
"  Left  them  at  home,  and  at  tea?" 
"  Yes,  Miss  Hilary." 

It  was  an  inexpressible  relief.  For  the  dis- 
covery must  have  come.  Ascott  must  have 
known  or  guessed  that  Mr.  Aecott  had  found 
him  out ;  he  must  hare  confessed  all  to  hie 
Aunt,  or  Johanna  would  never  have  done  two 
things  which  her  sister  knew  she  strongly  dis- 
liked— sending  Elizabeth  wandering  through 
London  at  night,  and  fetching  Hilary  home 
before  the  time.  Yet  they  had  been  left  sit- 
ting quietly  at  their  tea  ! 

Perhaps,  after  all,  the  blow  had  not  been  so 
dreadful.    Johanna  saw  comfort  through   it 
all.     Vague  hopes  arose   in  Hilary  also ;  vi- 
sions of  the  poor  sinner  sitting  "  clothed  and 
in  his  right  mind,"  contrite   and   humbled ; 
comforted  by  them  all,  with  the  inexpressible 
tenderness  with  which  we  yearn  over  one  who 
"  was  dead  and  is  alive  again,  was  lost,  and  is 
found ;"  helped  by  them  all  in   the  way  that 
thought  it  best  to  slip  out  of  the  room.     It  was  women — some  women  especially,   and  these 
tea  time,  but  still  she  waited  outside  for  a  half  were  of  them — seem  formed  to  help  the  erring 
hour  or  longer,  when  she  gently  knocked,  and  and  unfortunate ;  for,  erring  as  he  was,  he  had 


after  a  minute  or  two  Miss  Leaf  came  out 
There  seemed  nothing  wrong,  at  least  not 
much — not  more  than  Elizabeth  had  noticed 
many  and  many  a  time  after  talks  between 
Ascott  and  his  aunts. 

"  I'll  take  the  tea  in  myself,"  she  said;  "for 
I  want  you  to  start  at  once  for  Kensington  to 
fetch  Miss  Hilary.  Don't  frighten  her — mind 
that  Elizabeth.  Say  I  am  much  as  usual  my- 
self; but  that  Mr.  Leaf  is  not  quite  well,  and 
I  think  she  might  do  him  good.  Remember 
the  exact  words." 

Elizabeth  did,  and  would  have  delivered 
them  accurately,  if  Mr.  Ascott  had  not  been 
present,  and  addressed  her  in  that  authorita- 
tive manner.  Now.  she  resolutely  held  her 
tongue. 

lift  time  have  been  ac- 


also  been  unfortunate. 

Many  an  excuse  for  him  suggested  itself. 
How  foolish  of  them,  ignorant  women  that 
they  were,  to  suppose  that  seventeen  years  of 
the  most  careful  bringing  up  could,  with  his 
temperament,  stand  against  the  countless  dan- 
gers of  London  life ;  of  any  life  where  a  young 
man  is  left  to  himself  in  a  great  town,  with- 
his  temptations  so  many,  and  his  power  of  re- 
sistance so  small. 

And  this  might  not.  could  not  be  a  deliber- 
ate act.  It  must  have  been  committed  under 
a  sudden  impulse,  to  be  repented  of  tor  the  rest 
ot  his  days.  Nay,  in  the  strange  way  in  which 
our  sins  and  mistakes  are  made  not  only  the 
whips  to  scourge  us,  but  the  sicknesses  out  of 
which  we  often  come — suffering  and  weak  in- 
deed, but  yet  relieved,  and  fresh,  and  sound  — 


Mr.  Ascott  might  in 
customed  to  cringing,  frightened,  or  imperti-iwho  could  tell  but  that  this  grave,  fault,  this 
nent  servants,  but  this  was  a  phase  of  thelactual  guilt,  the  climax  of  so  many  lesser  er- 
species  with  which  he  was  totally  unfamiliar. 'rors,  might  not  workout  in  the  eud  Ascott's 
The  girl  was  neither  sullen  nor  rude,  yet  evi-  complete  reformation  '.' 

dently  quite  independent;  afraid  neither  of  her  So  in  the  strange  way  in  which,  after  a  great 
mistress,  r.orofhimself.  He  was  sharp  enough  shock,  we  begin  to  revive  a  little,  to  hope  against 
to  see  that,  whatever  he  wanted  to  get  out  of' bope,  to  see  a  slender  ray  breaking  through  the 
Elizabeth  must  be  got  in  another  way.  darkness,  Hilary  composed  herself,  at  least  eo 


MISTRESS  ANDIMAIP. 


73 


far  at  to  enable  her  to  bid  Elizabeth  go  down 
stairs,  and  ahe  would  be  ready  directly. 

"  I  think  it  rs  the  best  thing  I  can  do — to 
go  home  at  once,"  said  she. 

'•Certainly,  ray  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Ascott, 
rather  flattered  by  her  involuntary  appeal, 
and  by  at,  inward  consciousness  of  his  own 
exceeding  generosity.  "And  pray  don't  dif 
turb  yourselves.  Tell  your  sister  fi 
your  sister  Selina,  I  mean — that  I  overlook 
every  thing,  on  condition  that  you  keep  him 
out  of  my  sight,  that  young  blackguard  !'" 

"Don't,  don't!"  cried  Hilarf,  piteouslyi 

"  Well,  1  won't,  though  it's  his  right,  name 
— a  fellow  who  could —  Look  you,  Miss  Hil- 
ary, when  his  father  sent  to  me  to  heg  ten 
pounds  to  bury  his  mother  with.  I  did  bury 
her,  and  him  also,  a  month  after,  very  respect- 
ably too,  though  he  had  no  claim  upon  tne. 
except  that  lie  came  from  Stowbury.  And  I 
stood  godfather   to  the   child,  and  I've   don.' 


High  Street,  Hilary  taking  hor  servant's  arm; 
for  she  felt  strangely  weak.  As  she  sat  in  the 
dark  corner  of  the  omnibus  she  tried  to  look 
things  in  the*  face,  and  form  some  definite  plan; 
but  the  noisy  rumble  at  once  dulled  ar.d  con- 
fused her  faculties.  She  felt  capable  of  no 
consecutive  thought,  but  found  herself  stupid- 
ly watching  the  two  lines  of  faces,  wondering, 
rom  me—  absently,  what  sort  of  people  they  were;  what 
were  their  Jives  and  histories;  and  whether 
they  all  had,  like  herself,  their  own  personal 
harden  of  woe.  Which  was,  alas!  the  one 
fact  that  never  need  be  doubted  in  this  world. 

It  was  nigh  upon  eleven  o'clock  when  Hila- 
ry knocked  at  the  door  of  No.  15.  ■ 

Miss  Leaf  opened  it;  but  for  the  first  time 
in  her  life  she  had  no    welcome  for  her  child. 

"  Is  it  Ascott?  I  thought  it  was  Ascott," 
she  cried,  peering  eagerly  up  and  down  the 
street. 


'  He  is  gone  out,  then?  When  did  he  go?" 
my  duty  by  him.  But  mark  my  words:  what's  asked  Hilary,  feeling  her  heart  tuiu  stone- 
bred  in  the  bone  will  come  in  the  flesh.     He  cold. 

was  born  in  a  prison,  and  he'll  die  in  a  prison."      "  Just  after  Selina  came  in.     She — she  vex- 
"God  forbid  !''  said  Hilary,  solemnly.     And|ed  him.     But  he  can  not  be  long?     Isnotthat 


again  she  felt  the  strong  conviction,  that 
whatever  his  father  had  beeYi,  or  his  mother, 
of  whom  they  had  heard  nothing  till  she  waf 
dead,  Ascott  could  not  have  lived  all  these 
years  of  his  childhood  and  early  boyhood  with 
his  three  aunts  at  Stowbury  without  gaining 
at  i  >ast  some  good,  which  might  counteract 
the  hereditary  evil  ;  as  such  evil  can  be  coun- 
teracted, even  as  hereditary  disease  can  be 
gradually  removed  by  wholesome  and  careful 
rearing  in  a  new  generation. 

"  Well,  I'll  not  say  any  more,'}  continued 
Peter  Ascott:  "only  the  sooner  the  young 
fellow  takes  himself  off"  the  better.  He'll 
only  plague  you  all.  Now,  can  you  send  out 
for  a  cab  for  me?" 

Hilary  mechanically  rang  the  Jell,  and  gave 
the  order. 

"  I'll  take  you  to  town  with  me  if  yon  like. 


man  he?" 

An  1  just  as  she  was,  without  shawl  or  bon- 
net, Johanna  stepped  out  into  the  cold,  damp 
night,  and  strained  her  eyes  into  the  darkness; 
but  in  vain. 

"I'll  walk  round  the  Crftscentonce,  and  may- 
be I  shall  find  him.     Only  go  in,  Johanna." 

And  Hilary  was  away  again  into  the  dark, 
walking  rapidly,  less  with  the  hope  of  finding 
Ascott  than  to  get  time  to  calm  herself,  so  as 
to  meet,  and  help  her  sisters  to  meet,  this 
worst  depth  of  their  calamity.  For  something 
warned  her  that  this  last  desperation  of  a 
weak  nature  is  more  to  be  dreaded  than  any 
overt  obstinacy  of  a  strong  one.  She  had  a 
conviction  that  Ascott  never  would  come 
home. 

After  a  while  they  gave  up  waiting  and 
watching  at   the  front   door,  and   shut  them- 


If'll  save  you  the  expense  <!' the  omnibus.     I  selves  up  in  the  parlor.     The  first  explanation 

suppose  you  always  travel  by  omnibus  V  past,  even    Seiina   ceased    talking;  and  they 

Hiljiry    answered   something,   she   hardly  j.sat  together,  the  three  women,  doing  nothing, 

knew  what,  except  that  it   was  a  declining  of  attempting  to  do  nothing,  onlv  listening;  think- 


all  these  benevolent  attentions.  At  last  stie 
got  Mr.  Ascott  outside  the  street  door,  and 
returning,  put  her  hand  to  her  head  with  a 
moan. 

•  (  Mi,  Miss  Hilary,  jon'f  look  like^hat!" 
"  Elizabeth,  do  whatha= 

ed  ?" 

'  No." 

"  Then  I  don't  want  you  to  know.  And 
you  must  never  try  to  find  it  out ;  for  it  is  a 
secret,  that  ought  to  be  kept  strictly  within 
the  family.     Are  you  to  be  trusted?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Hilary." 


in<$   every  sound  was  a  step  on  the  pavement 
or  a  knock  at  the  door.     Alas!  what  would^ 
they  not  have  given  for  the  fiercest  knock,  the 
rnoet  impatient:,  angry  footstep,  if  only  it  had 
been  their  boy's  '. 

Ahoi  -  .  Jiii  had  to   be  put  to 

bed  in  strong  h\>i.enu.->.  She  had  lashed  her 
nephew  with  her  bitter  tongue  till  he  had 
rushed  out  ol  the  house,  declaring  that  none 
of  them  should  ever  see  his  face  again.  Now 
she  reproached  herself  as  being  the  cause  of 
all,  and  fell  into  an  agony  of  remorse,  which 
engrossed  her   sisters'    whole  care  :  until  her 


Now.  get  me  my  bonnet,  and  let  us  make  violent  emotion    having  worn    itself  out,  she 
haste  and  go  home."  went  to  sleep,  the   only  oue   who  did  sleep  in 

They  walked  down  the  gas-lit  Kensington  .that  miserable  family. 


74  MISTRESS  AttD  MAID. 

For  Elizabeth  also,  having  been  sent  to  bed  misery — the  family  disgrace.  To  the  secoud, 
hours  before,  was  found  by  Miss  Hilary  sit-  similar  and  even  stronger  reasons  applied. 
ting  on  the  kitchen  stairs,  about  four  in  the  There  was  something  about  the  cool,  matter- 
morning.  Her  mistress  made  no  attempt  at  of-fact,  business-like  act  of  setting  a  detective 
reproach,  but  brought  her  into  the  parlor  to  officer  to  hunt  out  their  nephew,  from  which 
share  the  silent  watch,  never  broken  except  these  poor  women  recoiled.  Besides,  impress- 
to  make  up  the  fire  or  light  a  fresh  candle  :  ed  as  he  was — he  had  told  his  Aun^Johanna 
till  candles  burned  up,  and  shutters  were  open- so — with  the  relentlessness  of  Mr.  Ascott, 
ed,  and  upon  their  great  calamity  stared  the  might  not  the  chance  of  his  discovering  that 
broad  unwelcome  day.  he  was  hunted  drive  him  to  desperation  ? 

Hardly  to  suicide.     Hilary    steadfastly  dis- 
believed  in  that.     When  .Selina  painted  horri- 
ble pictures  ofthis  throwing  himself  off  Water- 
PWAPTFR  \  I  \  loo  Bridge  :  or  being  found  hanging  to  a  tree 
'  '  in  one  of  the  parks;  or  locking   himself  in  a 

"  Missinc  ': — "Lost" — "  T  o— " — all  the  in-  hotel  bed  chamber  and  blowing  out  his  brains, 
itials  of  the  alphabet — we  read  these  sort  of  her  younger  sister  only  laughed — laughed  as 
advertisements  in  the  newspapers  :  and  unless  much  as  she  could — if  only  to  keep  Johanna 
there  happens    to  be  in   them    something  in-  i[uiet. 

tensely  pathetic,  comical,  or  horrible,  we  Yet  she  herself  had  few  fears.  For  she 
think  very  little  about  them.  Only  those  who  knew  that  Ascott  was,  in  a  sense,  too  coward- 
have  undergone  all  that  such  an  advertise- ly  to  kilt  himself.  He  so  disliked  physical 
ment  implies  can  understand  its  depth  of  pain,  physical  unpleasantness  of  all  kinds, 
misery  :  the  sudden  missing  of  the  person  out  She  felt  sure  he  would  stop  short,  even  with 
of  the  home  circle,  whether  going  away  in  the  razor  or  the  pistol  in  his  hand,  rather 
anger  or  driven  away  by  terror  or  disgrace  :  than  do  a  thing  so  very  disagreeable, 
the  hour  after  hour  and  day  after  day  of  ago-'  Nevertheless,  i-n  spite  of  Jierself,  while  she 
nized  suspense;  the  self-reproach,  real  or  and  her  sisters  sat  together,  hour  after  hour, 
imaginary,  lest  any  thing  might  have  been  in  a  stillness  almost  like  that  when  there  is  a 
said  or  clone  that  was  not  said  or  done — any  death  in  the  house,  these  morbid  terrors  took 
thing  prevented  that  was  not  prevented:  the  a  double  size.  Hilary  ceased  to  treat  them  as 
gnawing  remorse  for  some  cruel,  or  careless-, [ridiculous  impossibilities,  but  began  to  argue 
or  bitter  word,  that  could  so  easily  have  beenjthem  out  rationally.  The  mere  act  of  doing 
avoided.  so  made  her  recoil ;  for  it  seemed  an  acknow- 

Alas !  if  people  could  only  be  made  to  feel  ledgment  that  she  was  fighting  not  with  chi- 
that  every  word,  every  action  canics  with  it  merag  but  realities. 

the  weight  of'  an  eternity;  that  the  merest  *'  It  is  twenty-four  hours  since  he  went," 
chance  may  make  something  said  or  done  she  reasoned.  "  If  he  had  done  anything des- 
quite  uiipreineditatedly,  in  vexation,  sullen-  perate  he  would  have  done  it  at  once,  and  we 
or  spit*,  the  la M  action,  the  (aty  word :  should  have  heard  of  it  long  before  now  ;  ill 
which  may  grow  into  an  awful  remembrance;. news  always  travels  fast.  Besides,  his  name 
rising  up  between  them  and  the  irredeemable  was  markedjtaon  all  his  clothes  in  full.  I  did 
past,  and  blackening  the  future  for  years!  it  myself.     And  his  coat  pockets  were  always 

Selina  was  quite  sure  her  unhappy  nephew  stuffed  with  letters;  he  used  to  cram  them  in 
had  committed  suicide,  and  that  she  had  been  as  soon  as  he  gotfthem.  you  know." 
thp  cause  of  it.  This  conviction  she  impress-  And  at  this  small  remembrance  ot  one  of 
ed  incessantly  on  her  two  sister's  as  they  wait-  his  "  ways,"  even  though  it  was  an  unkind 
ed  upon  her.  or  sat  talking  by  her  bedside  way,  and  had  ctfused  them  many  a  pain,  from 
during  that  lo,ng  .Saturday,  when  there  was  the  want  of  confidence  it  showed,  his  poor, 
nothing  else  ti    be  done.  fond  aunts  turned  aside    to  hide  their  starting 

flm'  was  the  misery  ot'  it.     There  was  tin-Hears.     The  ■  ery  phrase  "  he  used  to,"  seem- 

thing  to  be  done.     They  bad  not  the  slightest  ed.  such  an  unconscious  admission  that  hie  life 

clew  to   \-.ott'-  haunts  or  associates.     With  with  them  was  over  and  done ;  that  he  never 

i he  last  lingering  of  honest   shame,  or  honest' would  either  please  them'  or  vex  them  any 

ct  for  In-   aunts,  h*  had    kjepf  all  these  more. 

himself,      fo  search  for  him  in  wide      Yet  they  took   care  that  during   the  whole 
London  was  altogether  impossible.  day  every  thing  should  be  done  as  if  he  were 

["wo  courses  suggested  themselves  io  Hilary  expected  minute   by    minute:  that    Elizabeth 

one.  to  •."■and  consult   Miss    Balquidderjlshould  lay  the  fourth  knife  and  fork  at  dinner, 

other — which  came   into  her  mind  from i the  fourth  cup  and  saucer  at  tea.     Kli/abeth, 

some  similar  case  she  had  heard  of — to  set  on  who  throughout  had  faithfully  kept  her  pledge; 

foot  inquiries  at   all  police  stations.     But  the  who  went  about  silently  and   unobservant.lv. 

first  idea  was  soon  rejected:  only  at    the  last  and  by   every  means   in  her  power  put  aside 

juld  she         I  I    th'   laniil;  the  curiosity  ol  Mrs  tcouldbe 


MISTRESy  AND  MAID. 


... 


the  wretched  hov  ami  bef  hand-  to  clutch  ;ii 
him,  as  if  he  wore  drowning,  una  she  were  tin- 
only  one  to  save  him.  I  low  could  she  do  it '.' 
If  she  could  only  get  at  him,  byword  or 
leHer!  But  that  seemed  impossible,  unlit, 
turning  over  scheme  after  scheme,  she  sud- 
denly thought  of  the  one  which  so  many  peo- 
ple had  tried   in   similar  circumstances,  and 


the  reason  that  Jier  lodgers  bad  sal  up  all 
night,  and  whal  on  t-arih  had  become  of  young 
Mr.  Leaf. 

After  tea,  Johanna,  quite  worn  out,  consent- 
ed to  go  to  bed  ;  and  then  Hilary,  left  to  her 
own  responsibility,  set  herself  to  consider  how 
long  this  dreadful  quietness  was  to  lust,  wheth- 
er nothing  could  be   done.     She  could  endure 

whatever  was  inevitable,  but  it  waa  against  which  she  remembered  they  had  talked  over 
her  nature  as  well  as  her  conscience  to  sit  and  laughed  over,  they  ar,d  Ascott,  one  Sun- 
down tamely  to  endure  any  tiling  whatsoeverjday  evening  not  so  very  long  ago.  This  was 
till  it  did  become  inevitable.  j — a  Tiroes  advertisement. 

In  the  first  place,  she  determined  -on  that  The  difficulty  how  to  word  it,  so'as  to  catch 
which  a  certain  sense  of  honor,  as  well  as  the  his  attention  and  yet  escape  publicity,  was 
tear  of  vexing  him  should  he  come  home,  had  very  great,  especially  as  his  initials  were  so 
hitherto  prevented  the  examining  of  Ascott's  common.  Hundreds  of  "  A.  L.'s  "  might  he 
room,  drawers,  clothes,  and  papers.  It  was  a' wandering  away  from  home,  to  whom  all  that 
very  dreary  business— almost  like  doing  the  she  dared  say  to  call  Ascott  back  would  equal- 
like to  a  person  who  was  dead,  only  without  ly  apply.  At  last  a  bjight  thought  struck  h,er. 
the  sad  sanctity  that  belongs  to  the  dead,  "A.  leaf"  (will  a  small  I)  "will  be  quite 
whose  very  errors  are  forgotten  and  forgiven,  safe  wherever  found.  Come.  Saturday.  bV 
who  can  neither  sutler  nor  make'others  suffer  As  she  wrote  it — this  wretched  double-en-' 
any  more.  tejidre — she  was  seized  with  that  sudden  sense 

Many  things  she  found,  and  more  she  guess-  of  the  ludicrolis  which  sometimes  intrudes  in 
ed  at — things  which  stabbed  her  to  the  heart,  such  a  ghastly  fashion  in  the  very  midst  Of 
things  that  she  never  told,  not  even  to  Johan-  great  misery.  She  burst  into  uncontrollable 
na  ;  but  she  found  noclew  whatever  to  Ascott's  laughter,  fitafterfit;  so  violent  that  Elizabeth, 
whereabouts,  intentions,  or  connections.  One  who  came  in  by  chance,  was  terrified  out  of 
thing,  however,  struck  her — that  most  of  his  her  wits,  and  kneeling  beside  her  mistress,  im- 
clothes,  and  all  his  somewhat  extensive  stock  plored  her  to  be  quiet.  At  last  the  paroxysm 
of  jewelry  were  gone;,  every  thing,  in  short,  ended  in  complete  exhaustion.  The  tension 
that  could  be  convertible  into  money.  It  was  of  the  last  twenty-four  hours  had  given  way, 
evident  that  his  flight,  sudden  as  it  was,  hadiand  Hilary  knew  her  strength  was  gone.  Yet 
been  premeditated  as  at  lea«t  a  possibility.      |the   advertisement   ought  to   be  taken   to  the 

This  so  far  was  satisfactory,.     It  took  away  Times  office  that  very  night,  in  order  to  be  in- " 


the  on  e  h  aunting  fear  of  h  is  com  m  it  t  i  ng  suicide; 
and  made  it  likely  that  he  was  still  lingering 
about,  hiding  from  justice  and  Mr.  Ascott,  or 
perhaps  waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  escape 
from  England — from  the  fear  that  his  godfath- 
er, even  if  not  prosecuting  him,  had  the  power 


serted  without  fail  on  Monday  morning. 

There  was  but  one  person  whom  she  could 
trust — Elizabeth . 

She  looked  at  the  girl,  who  was  kneeling 
beside  the  sofa,  rubbing  her  feet,  and  some- 
times casting  a  glance  round,  in  the  quiet  way 


and  doubtless  the  will  completely  to  crush  his  of  one  well  used  to  nursing,  who  can  find  out 
future,  wherever  he  was  known.  how  the  sufferer  is   without  "fussing''  with 

Where  could  he  go?  His  Aunt  tried  to  questions.  She  noticed,  probably  because  she 
think  over  every  word  he  had*ever  let  fall;  had  seen  little  of  her  of  late,  a  curious  change 
about  America,  Australia,  or  any  other  place  in  Elizabeth.  It  must  have  been  gradual,  but 
to  which  the  hopeless  outlaws  of  this  country  yet  its  result  had  never  been  so  apparent  be- 
rly;  but  she  could  recollect  nothing  to  enable  fore.  Her  brusqueuess  had  softened  down, 
her  to  form  any  conclusion.  One  thing  only  and  there  had  come  into  her  and  shone  out  of 
she  was  sure  of — that  if  once  he  went  awav,  her,  spite  of  all  her  natural  uncomeliness  of 
his  own  words  would  come  true;  they  would  person,  that  beautiful,  ~intaugible  something, 
never  see  his  face  again.  T1k  last  tie,  the  lasti-common  alike  to  peasant  and  queen,  as  clear 
constraint  that  bound  Kim  to  home  and  a  to  see  and  as  sad  to  miss  in  both — woraanli- 
steady,  righteous  life  would  be  broken:  he  ness.  Added  thereto  was  the  gentle  compo- 
would  go  alladrift,  be  tossed  hither  and  thitherjsure  of  mein  which  almost  invariably  accom 
on  every  wave  of  circumstance — what  ho  call-!oanied  it,  which  instinctively  makes  you  feel 
ed  circumstance — till  Heaven  only  knew  what  that  in  great  things  or  small,  whatever  the 
a  total  wreck  he  might  speedily  become,  or  in  woman  has  to  do,  she  will  do  it  in  the  woman- 
what  forlorn  and  far  oft"  seas  his  ruined  life  liest,  wisest,  and  best  way. 
might  go  down.  He,  Ascott  Leaf,  the  last  of  So  thought  Mies  Hilary  as  she  lay  watching 
the  name  and  family.  her  servant,  and   then  explained  to   her  the 

"It  can  not  be;  it  srfall  not   be!"  cried  .errand  upon  which  she  wished  to  send  her. 
Hilary.    A  sharp,  bitter  cry  of  resistance  to'     Not  much  explanation,  for  she  merely  gave 
the  death  ;  and  her  heart  seemed  to  go  out  tojher  the  advertisement  to  read,  and  told  her 


76 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID, 


what  she  wished  done  with  it.  And  Elizabeth, |ed  her  eyes,  and  flushed  hei  cheeks,  and  made 
on  her  part,  asked  no  question?,  but  sirnply'lier.  old  nervousness  of  manner' return.  More 
listened  and  obeyed.  especially  as^he  was  somewhat  perplexed,  be- 

After  she  was  gone   Hilary  lay  on  trte  sofa    mg  divided  in  her  mind  between  the  wish  she 
passive  and    motionless.     Her  strength  and  had  to  tell  her  mistress  every  thing,  and  the 


activity  seemed  to  have  collapsed  at  once  into 
that  heavy  quietness  which  comes  when  one 
has  endured  to  the  utmost  limit  of  endurance.  led  herself. 


fear  to  trouble 
with  any  small 


her.    at   this  troublous  time, 
matter  that   merely   concern- 


when  one  feels  as  if  to  speak  a  word  or  to  lift 
a  finger  would  be  as  much  as  life  was  worth. 

"Oh,  if  I  could  only  go  to  sleep  !"  was  all 
she  thought.  ¥ 

By-and-by  sleep  did  come,  and  she  was  taken 
far  away  out  of  these  miseries.  By  the  strange 
peculiarity  of  dreams  that  we  so  seldom  dream 
about  any  grief  that  oppresses  us  at  the  time, 
but  generally  of  something  quite  different,  she 
thought  she  was  in  some  known  unknown 
land,  lovely  and  beautiful,  with  blue  hills 
rising  in  ihe  distance,  and  blue  seas  creeping 
and  curling  on  to  the  shore.  On  this  shore 
She  was  walking  with  Robert  Lyon,  just  as  he 
used  to  be,  with  his  true  face  and  honest  voice. 
He  did  not  talk  to  her  much  ;  but  she  felt  him 
there,  and  knew  they  had  but  "one  heart  be- 
tween them."     A  heart  which  had  never  once 


The  matter  was  this.  When  she  had  given 
in  her  advertisement  at  the  Times  office,  and 
was  standing  behind  the  co 'inter  waiting  for 
her  change  and  receipt,  there  stood  beside  her 
a  young,  man,  also  wailing.  She  had  hardly- 
noticed  him.  till  on  his  talking  to  the  clerk  a- 
bout  some  imsprint  in  his  advertisement,  ap- 
parently one  of  the  great  column  of  "  Want 
Places."  her  ear  wascaught.by  the  unmistak- 
able Stowbury  accent. 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  heard  it  since 
flie  left  home,  and  to  Elizabeth's  tenacious 
nature  home  in  absence  had  gained  an  addi- 
tional charm,  had  grown  to  be  the  one  place 
in  the  world  about  which  her  affections  clung". 
In  these  dreary  wilds  of  London,  to  hear  a 
Stowbury  tongue,  to  catch  sight  of  a  Stowbury 


r„,i   „;♦•., -w  a.™,  *i fk~_     „  u~,„*  ,  i  ~i  J  person,  or  even   one  who   might  know   Stow- 

swerved,  eitner  from  the  other :  a  heart  who  er  1  i        ,    i  •  i        t        j 

„„,i  o~„r,,;   ;„**  „i,;„u  ti,„   i,s„ot  „„f«;.i   i,„  i  bury,  made  her  heart    leap  up  with  a    bouna 
and  souna,  into  which  the    least  untatth  nadi    „  /'       „,     .  ,       ,,   r,    K     ,    ,     ,     ,  . 

of  joy.  She  turned  suddenly,  and  looked  in- 
tently at  tli,e  young  man,  or  rather  the  lad, 
for  he  seemed  a  mere  lad,  small,  slight,  and 
whiskerless. 

"  Well,  Miss.  I  hope  you'll  know  me  again 
next  time."  said  the  young  fellow.  At  which 
remark  I^lizabeth  saw  that  he  was  neither  so 
young   flor    so  simple    as   she   had   at   first 


never  come — that  had  never  known,  or  recog 
nized  even  as  a  possibility,  the  one  first  doubt, 
the  ominous 

'•  Mttle  rift  within  the  lute, 
That  by-and->>y  will  make  the  music  mute. 
An  1  ever  widening  slowly  silence  all." 

Is  it  ever  so  in  this  world  ?     Does  God  ever 
bring  the  faithful  man  to  the  faithful  woman 


and  make  them  love  one  another  with  ariirht   thought.     She  drew  back,  very  much  asham- 
eous,  holy,  persistent   tenderness,  which  dajre  ed^and  coloring  deeply, 
look  in  His  face,  nor  be  ashamed  ;  which  sees 


Nov*,  if  Elizabeth  ever  looked  any  thing 
in  this  life  only  the  beginning  of  the  life' tol'ike  comely,  it  was  when  she  blushed^  for  she 
come;  and  in  the  closest,  most  passionate  hu   had  the  delicate  skin    peculiar  to  the   young 


man  love  something  to  be  held  with  a  loose 
hand,  something  frail  as  glass  ami  britile  as 
straw,  unless  it  is*  perfected  and  sanctified  by 
the  love  divine? 

Hilary  at  least  believed  so.  And  when  at 
Elizabeth's  knock  she  woke  with  a  start,  and 
saw — not  the  sweet  sea-shore  and  Robert  Lyon, 
but  the  dull  parlor,  and  the  last  flicker  of  the 
fire,  she  thanked  God  that  her  dream  was  not 
all  a  dream — that,  sharp  as  her  misery  was. 
it  did  not  touch  this — the  love  of  her  heart: 
she  believed  in  Robert  Lvon  still. 

And  so  she  rose  and  spoke  quite  cheerfully, 
asking  Elizabeth  how  she  had  managed,  and 
whether  the  advertisement  would  be  sure  to 
be  in  on  Monday  morning 

"  Yes,  Miss 
right." 


women  of  her  district:  and  wh?n  the  blood 
rushed  through  it.  no  cheek  of  lady  fair  ever 
assumed  a  brighter  rose.  That,  or  the  natu- 
ral vanity  of^nan  in  being  noticed  by  woman, 
caught  the  youth's  attention. 

"Come  now,  Miss,  don't  be  shy  or  offended. 
Perhaps  I'm  going  your  way?  Would  you 
like  company  home?" 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Elizabeth,  with 
great  dignity. 

"  Well,  won't  you  even  tell  a  fellow  your 
name?     Mine's  Tom  Cnffe,  and  I  live — " 

"  Cliffe  !  Are  you  little  Tommy  Cliffe,  and 
do  you  come  from  Stowbury  j" 

And  all  Elizabeth's  heart  was  in  her  eyes. 

As  has  been    said!  she    was  of  a   special!} 


Hilary;  it  is   sure   to   be  all  itenacious  nature.     She   liked  few  people,  but 

those  she  did  like  she  held  very  fast.     Almo&t 

And  then  the  girl  hung  about  the  room    in  the  only  strong  interest  of  her  life,  except  Mis 

an  uneasy  way,  as  if  she  had  something  to  tell,J  Hilary,  had  been  the  little  boy  whom  she  had 

which  was  the  fact.  snatched  from    under  the  horse's  heel";  and 

Elizabeth  had  had  an  adventure.     It  was  although  he  was  rather  a  scape-grace,  and  cared 

new  thing  in  her  monotolpoue  life ;  it  brighten-jlittle  for  her,  and  hie  mother  was  a  decidedly 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


77 


objectionable  woman,  she  had  clung  to  them  "little  Tommy  Cliffe."  Why  not?  If  so, 
both  firmly  till  she  lost  sight  of  them.  how  excessively  proud  she  should  be! 

Now  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  she  For  the  moment  she  had  forgotten  her  er- 
should  recognize  in  this  London  stranger  the  rand  ;  forgotten  even  Miss  Hilary.  It  was 
little  lad  whose  life  she  had  saved — a  lad,  too,  not  till  Tom  Clifie  asked  her  where  she  lived, 
from  her  beloved  Stowbury — without  acertain  that  she  suddenly  recollected  her  mistress 
amount  of  emotion,  at  which  the  individual  hi  might  not  like,  under  present  circumstances, 
question  broadly  stared.  that  their  abodeor  any  thing  concerning  them 

"  Bless  your  heart,  I  am  Tommy  Cliffe  from  should  be  known  to  a  Stowbury  person. 
Stowbury,  sure  enough.     Who  are  you  ?"  It  was  a  struggle.     She   would   have  liked 

"  Elizabeth  Hand."  to  see  the  lad  again  ;  have  liked  to  talk  over 

Whereupon  ensued  a  most  friendly  greet-  with  him  Stowbury  things  and  Stowbury  peo- 
ing.  Tom  declared  he  should  have  known  pie  ;  but  she  felt  she  ought  not,  and  she  would 
her  any  where,  and  had  never  forgotten  her —  not. 

never !  How  far  that  was  true  or  not,  he  cer-  "Tell  me  where  you  live,  Tom,  and  that  will 
tainly  looked  as  if  it  were ;  and  two  great  do  just  as  well  ;  at  least  till  I  speak  to  my 
tears  of  pleasure  dimmed  Elizabeth's  kind  mistress.  I  never  had  a  visitor  before,  and 
eyes.  my  mistress  might  not  like  it." 

"You've  grown  a  man  now,  Tommy,"  said      *'  No  followers  allowed,  eh  ?" 
she,  looking  at  him  with  a  sort  of  half-mater-      Elizabeth  laughed.     The  idea  of  little  Tom- 
nal  pride,  and  noticing  his  remarkably  hand    my  Clifie  as  her  "  follower^"  seemed   so  very 
some  and  intelligent  face,  so  intelligent  that.it  fanny.     t 

would  have  attracted  notice,  though  it  was  So  she  bade  him  goodby;  having,  thanks 
set  upon  broad,  stooping  shoulders,  and  a  to  his  gay  frankness,  been  made  acquainted 
small,  slight  body.  "Let  me  see;  how  old  with  all  about  him,  but  leaving  him  in  perfect 
areymi?"  .  ignorance  concerning  herself  and  her  mistress. 

"  I'm  nineteen,  I  think."  She  only  smiled  when  he  declared  contemptu- 

'*  And  I'm  two  and  twenty.  How  aged  we  ously,  and  with  rather  a  romantic  emphasis, 
are  growing!"  said  Elizabeth,  with  a  smile.'    that  he  would  hunt  her  out,  though    it   were 

mi         i         ij      r.      -\r       ni'ff      u  *      *  half  over  London. 

Then  she  asked   after  Mrs.  Cl.ffe,   but  got      rfhis  adventure.     When  she 

only  the  brief  answer,      Mot  hers  dead,     giv  ^  (  d  littletotellf  and 

en  in  a  tone  as  if  no  mcc  inquiries  would  be  ,f .      tT.,        ,'  ,        ,  .     ..      •,       .    ,.a        ., 

,  u-  -i  i       i    j    r    i     e  Miss  Hilary  listened  to  it  rather  indifferently, 

welcome.     Hit.  two   sisters,  also,  had  died  of  ,     •       ,       ,•■  ,  u      -n  r>i-«> 

,  ,  rp         ,     i.  „  „    trying  hard  to   remember  who    lommy  Onrfe 

typhus  in  one  week,  and  lorn    had  been  'on     •     b    i  ,     .   ,  •   ,        .         i  •      c 

,-.'  ,      ,  ,,       ,  ,  ..  e     ,,     ,     .  was,  and  to  take  an    interest  in    him  because 

his  own  hook,     as  he  expressed  it,  for  the  last  .  ,         c.      ,  ^   .  Q,      ,  , 

.,  he  came  from  Stowbury.     But  Stowbury  days 

u   3  ,      r.      i        j         »i     .-i     were  so  far  off  now — with  such  a  gulf  of  pain 

He  was  extremely  frank  and  confidential:  ,    tvvf>„_ 

told  how    he    had  begun    life   as   a    printer's      a    ,.  '  ,_  .»  ~  ,  ,    ,       ., 

„,     -,  ,,     ,.  .,  .  "  '  .      Suddenlv  the  same  fear  occurred  to  her  that 

"devil,"  afterward  become  a  compositor,  and  ,  „  ,    .  „.    -  ,  .     vv     ,    ., 
,.         Y,    »  ...        i    j  i  <.  .u    .     \         i  had  occurred  to  Elizabeth, 

his  health  tdiling,  had  left  the  trade,  and  gone      .n,.     i    »  ■<•■,  ,        .       .-  .     t 

A  n  I  he  lad  did  not  see  the  advertisement,    1 

as  servant  to  a   iterary  gentleman.  .      „9     v„     n      _*  ui-        u     i      o>> 

hope?     You  did  not  tell  him  about  us? 

"An  uncommon  clever  fellow  is  master:  « i  to]{\  })ini  nothing,"  said  Elizabeth, 
keeps  his  carnage,  and  has  dukes  to  dinner. speaking  softly,  and  looking  down.  "  I  did 
all  out  of  his  books.  Maybe  you've  heard  o'|not  e^en  ,Mention  anv  body's  name." 
them,  Elizabeth?'  and  he  named  a  few,  in  a  "That  was  right; "thank  vou." 
patronizing  way  :  at  which  Elizabeth  smiled.  But  oh,  the  bitterness  of  knowing,  and  feel- 
for  she  knew  them  well.  But  she  nevertheless  jng  8Ure  Elizabeth  knew  too,  the  thing  for 
regarded  with  a  certain  awe  the  servant  of  so  whieli  she  thanked  her  ;'  apd  that  not  to  men- 
great  a  man,  and  "  little  Tommy  Clifie  "  took  tjon  A-vott's  name  was  the  greatest  kindness 
anew  importance  in  her  eyes.  the  faithful  servant  could   show   toward  the 

Also,   as   he    walked   with  her  along   the! family, 
street  to  find  an  omnibus,  she  could    not  help 
perceiving  what  a  sharp  little  fellow  he  hadj  ________ 

grown  into;  how,  like  many  another  printer's: 
boy,  h%  had  caught  the  influence  of  the  at- 
mosphere of  letters,  and  was  educated,  self- 
educated,  of  course,  to  a  degree  far  beyond  his 
position.  When  she  looked  at  him,  and  list- 
ened to  him,  Elizabeth  involuntarily  thought 
of  Benjamin  Franklin,  and  of  many  more  who 
had  raised  themselves  from  the  ink-pot  and 
the  compositor's  desk  to  fame  and  eminence, 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Ascott  Leaf  never  came  home. 

l)ay*after  day  appeared  the  advertisement, 
sometimes  slightly  altered,  as  hope  or  fear 
suggested;  but  no  word,  no  letter,  no  answer 
of  any  kind  reached  the  anxious  women. 


By-and-by,  moved  by  their  distress,  or  per- 
aad  she  fancied  that  such  might  be  the  lot  of  haps  feeling  that  the  scape-grace  would  be  safer 


78 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


i^ot  rid  of  if  found  and  dispatched  abroad  inday,  as  they    were  all   sitting  in  the  mid 
some  decent  manner.  Mr.  Ascott  himself  took 'white  finery,  but  as  sadly  and  silentbj  as  if  it 
measures  for  privately  continuing  the  search,  were  a  funeral,  a  person  was  suddenly  shown 
Every   outward-bound   ship   was   examined  ;  in  "on  business." 

every  hospital  visited;  every  case  of  suicide)  It  was  a  detective  officer  sent  to  find  out 
investigated:  but  in  vain.  The  unhappy  from  Ascott  Leaf 's  aunts  whether  a  certain 
young  man  had  disappeared,  suddenly  and  description  of  him,  in  a  printed  hand-bill,  was 
completely,  as  many  another  has  disappeared.!  correct.  For  his  principal  creditor,  exaspe- 
out  of  the  home  circle,  and  been  never  heard  rated,  had  determined  on  thus  advertising  him 
of  more.    ^  in  the  public  papers  as  having  "absconded." 

11  is  difficult  to  understand  how  a  family  can  Had  a  thunder-bolt  fallen  in  the  little  par- 
possibly  bear  such  a  sorrow,  did  we  uotknow|lor  the  three  aunts  could  not  have  been  more 
that  many  have  had  to  bear  it,  and  have  borne  utterly  overwhelmed.     Thev  made  no  "scene" 


— a  certain  sense  of  pride  kept  these  poor  gen- 
tlewomen from  bptraying  their  misery  to  a 
strange  man  ;  though  he  was  a  very  civil  man. 
and  having  delivered  himself  of  his  errand, 
like  an  automaton,  sat  looking  into   his  hat. 


it,  with  all  its  load  of  agonizing  suspense,  slow- 
ly dying  hope, 

"The  hope  that  keeps  alive  despaii 

>eulingdown  into  a  permanent  grief,  compar- 
ed to  which  the  grief  for  loss  by  death  is  light  and  taking  no   notice  of  aught  around 
and  endurable.  JHe  was  accustomed  to  this  sort  of  thine. 

The  Leaf  family  went  through  all  this/  Hilary  was  the  first  to  recover  herself.  She 
Was  it.  better  or  worse  for  them  thaUkeir  an- glanced  round  at  her  sisters,  but  they  had  not 
guish  had  to  be  secret  ?  that  there  were  no  a  word  to  say.  In  anv  crisis  of  family  diffi- 
irienda  to  pity,  inquire,  or  console  ?  that  Jo-  culty  they  alwavs  left'her  to  take  the  helm 
hanna  had  to  sit  hour  by  hour  and  day  by  day ■  Eapidly  she  ran  over  in  her  mind  all  the 
in  the  solitary  parlor,  Selinahavmg  soon  gone|conseciuences  that  would  arise  fwftn  thi8  new 
back  to  her  old.  ways  of  "gadding  about,  ':tr0uble-the  public  disgrace:  Mr.  Ascott's 
and  her  marriage  preparations :  and  that,  a  andaun0van  ce,  no^  that  she  cared  much 
hardest  of  all  Hilary  had  on  the  Monday  for°this.  except  so  far  as  it  would  affect  Selina- 
morning  to  return  to  Kensington  and  worfc  kftfly f<the  death-blow  it  was  to  any   possiW, 

work,  work,  as  nothing  were  amiss?  v,,-.™  nf  ™«i0;n,;n«  n»„  ,  ~~         j-     1      i^i 

t,  '  .  ,       ,  f,    ,    „  ,,  ■     ,      ,,    .  „  nope  ol  reclaiming  the  poor  prodigal.     Who 

But  it  was  natural  that  all  this  should   teflghe  did  not  believeswas   dead   but  %m  fondlv 

upon  her:  and  one  day  Miss  Balquidder  said>|trusted  he  would  return  oneda    frora  llis  wan„ 

after  a  long   coyer    observation  of  her  face„den        and  hissvvine>ft  ■ 

My  dear,  you  look   ill.     Is  there  any  thing :  ted  calf  ki]led  for  him 

troubling  you?     My  young  people  always  tell  over  hjm 

me  their  troubles,  bodily  or  mental.     I  doctor  sconded  > 

both." 


I  am  sure  of   it,"  said  Hilary,  with  a  sad, 


nusks.  to  have  the  fat- 

and   glad   tears  shed 

But  after  being  advertised  as  "al>- 

Ascott   never  would,  never  could, 

!come  home  any  home. 

smile,  but  entered  into  no  exphnation,  and'  Takifigascool  and  business-like  a  tone  as 
Miss  Balquidder  had  the  wise  kindliness  to  'Jh*cronld'  she  returned  the  paper  t<Mhe  de- 
inquire  no   further.     Nevertheless,  on    some      }}%£'.    • 

errand  or  other  she  came  to  Kensington  nearly       '   J  ll,s  18  a  ?ummar;:.  proceeding.     1  e  t  here 
every  evening,  and  took  Hilary  back  with  her  n0  M    ?  °Mvoidmg  l] 
to  sleep  at  No.  15. 


One, 


"  Your  sister  Selina  must  wish  to  have  you 
with  her  as  much  as  possible  till  she  is  mar- 
ried." she  said,  as  a  reason  for  doing  this. 

And  Hilary  acquiesced,  but  silently,  as  we 
often  do  acquiesce  in  what  ought  to  be  a  truth, 


Miss."  replied  the  man,  very  respeci- 
fully.     "If  the  family  would  pay  the  debt." 
"  Do  you  know  how  much  it  is?" 
'•  Eighty  pounds." 
"Ah!" 
That  hopeless  sigluof  Johanna's  vva6  suffi 


but  which" we  "know  to  be~t£»  "aaddest,"moBt  cienfc  an8wer'  though  ™  one  spoke. 

painful  falsehood.  But  in  desperate  cases  some  women  acquire 

For  Selina,  it  became  plain  to  see,  was  one  a  desperate  courage,  or  rather  it  is  less  cour- 
of  the  family  no  more.  After  her  first  burst  of  age  than  faith — the  faith  which  is  said  to 
self-reproachful  grief  she  took  Mr.  Ascott's  "  remove  mountains" — the  belief  that  to  the 
view  of  her  nephew's  loss — that  it  was  a  good  verv  Ja?t  there  must  be.  something,  to  b*e  done, 
riddance;  went  on  calmly  with  her  bridal  an^-  if  it  can  be  done,  they  will  have  strength 
preparations,  and  seemed  only  afraid  lest  any  to  do  it.  True,  the  mountain  may  not  be  re- 
thing  should  interfere  to  prevent  her  marriage,  moved,  but  the   mere  act  of  faith,  or  courage 

But  the  danger  was   apparently  tided  over.' sometimes  teaches  how  to  climb  over  it. 
No  news  of  Ascott  came.     Even  the  daily  in-:     "Very  well.     Take  this  paperback  to  your 
quiries  for  him  by    hie  creditors   had  ceased,  employer.     He  must  be  aware   that  his  'onlv 
His   Aunt  Selina  was   beginning  to  breathejehance  of  payment  is   by  suppressing  it.     U' 
freely,  when,  the  morning  before  the  wedding'he  will  do  that,  in  two  days  heshall  hear  from 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID.  ?g. 

I£Vm"^Yj!,'"    UUik°  arrau*cment«  about!     Hilary  thing  herself  on  her  dear  old  sister's 
rr"iE  .    ,  ,         •  Deck  arul  bur8t  int°  tears.       ■ 

amaj  said  this,  to  her  sisters'  utter  aston-     Selina  too  cried  a  little,  and  said  tbat  she 

aft ment,  so  otter  that  they  let  her  say  it,  and  should  like  to  help  in   paving  the  debt,  if  Mr. 

mrirlh      M  7  g?i  aWa}'  tfi  *  Civil  "G00d  A8C0lt  hatl  no  objection.     And  then  she  turn- 
nonnng,     before  they  could  interfere  or  con-  ed  back  to  her  white  splendors,  and  became 

•nvP  MV°  iim     rr-,  .     ,  absorbed  in  the  annoyance  of  there  being  far 

,„-,r  i  ■     r    n  Hilary,  what  have  yoo.too  much  clematis   and  far  too  little  orange 

'       iT    ,    r*18a?imP°88lblhty-  blossom  in  the  bridal    bonnet-wbich   it  wt 

Like  the  frenchman's  answer  to  his  mis- now  too   lace  to  change.     A   little,  also,   she 

tress-  Madame,    if  it   had    been  possible  itj vexed  herself  about  the   risk  of  confidi^in 

X  i  Xll  r^°ne'ahi?diy  ,,ifT5t  iS  ^H*?8?  Bafouidder,  lest  by  any  chance  the  sen- 
sible it  shall  be  done.'     Jt  shall,  I  say."         might  get  round  to  Kussell   Square  :  and  was 
1  wonder  you   can  jest  about  our  misfor-  urgent  that  at  least  nothing  should  be  said  or 
tunes,     said  beliua,    in   her  most  querulous  done  until    after  to-morrow.     She  was   deter- 

V°"Ct\        ,  •      •  t>        ,         •      ,  ; mined  to   be  married,  and  dreaded  any   slip 

1  111  not  jesting.     But  where  is    the  use  of  between  the  cup  and  lip 
sitting  down  to  moan  !     I  mean   what  I  say.      But  Hilarv  was  resolute.     "I   said  that  in 
lhe thing  must  be  done."  two  days  the"  matter  ehould  be  arranged,  and 

»t<  VTlg  h"ered-her  small,  red  lips  were  so  it  must  be,  or  the  man   will   think  we  too 
tightly  together.  break  our  promises." 

•  If  it  is  not  done,  sisters— if  his  public  dis-  "  You  can  assure  him  to  the  contrary,"  -aid 
grace  is  not  prevented,  don't  you  see  the  re- Selina,  with  dignity.  "In  fact,  why  can't 
suit  .\  ot  as  regards  your  marriage,  Selina-  you  arrange  with  him  without  going  at  all  to 
the  man  must  be  a  coward  who  would  refuse'Miss  Balquidder?" 

Kl*  r°man  h?  °fTid  f0T\  eve\th<>ugb:     Again  the  fierce,  bitter  expression  returned 
>m  "eale8t  k>nsman  had  been  hanged  at  the  to  Hilary's  face. 

LofSfc^80?"!  hiiU18e!f-     Th.e1boi;i8i      "You   forget,   Mis,   Balqoidder's    hones! 
o   a  bad  boy  though  he  has  done  wickedly;  name  is  his  only  guarantee   against   the  dis- 
tort there  is  a  difference  between  a  wicked  actjhonestv  of  ours." 

and  a  wicked  nature.     I  mean  to  save  him  if      «  Hilajy,  you  disgrace   us-disgrace  me— 
«  TT««9»»  speaking  in  such  a  wav.     Are    we  not  gentle 

Mow  .  _  women?" 

debt  'y  ^^^        g0°d  Dame  :  bj  Pa}i,lg  the      "  *  don,t   knmv'    Seliua-     !   uon'fc  s«em  to 
i\  •.     ,  ,     ,    „  .  know  or  to  feel  any  thing,  except  that!  would  • 

And  where  on  earth  shall  you  get  the  mo- live  on  bread  and  water  in  order  to  live 
!18^c ',      •,,  ,,.     -r    .  peaceably  and  honestlv.     Oh,  will  it  ever  ever 

•  |I  will  go i  to  Miss  Balquidder  and— "  be?"  "  ' 

'.'.  x°nT0Z?J'<    t         n  ,-,      ,     She  walked  op  apd  down  the  parloi,  disar- 

H   never.     I    would  as  soon   think   of  ranging  the  white  draperies  which  lay  about, 

'  Th"g    - *»  it       i         u     L.M  ,.      ,  foebngunotterable  contempt  for  then-rand  for 

hen  controlling  herself,    Hi  ary  explained  her  sister.     Angry  and  miserable,  with  even 
laat  she  meant  to  ask  Miss   Balquidder  to  ar-  nerve  quivering,  she  -vaa   at  war  with   the 
range  for  her  with   the   creditor   to  pav    the  whole  world 
£SSj?WV,d!  blCeTt5ia  wJeekl>'or1  monthly      This  feeling  lasted    even   when,  after  some 

a     ?in«fn  i'    °  bededucted  irom   ber  salary  discussion,  she  gained  her   point  and  was  o' 
at  ivensing  on.  her   vvay  t0   caH   Q|l   Mige   Eal     idder     S] 

mo  i  "  n°ta  ve7  «^at  favormto  ask  of  her=  *ent  round  and  round  th,  Square  many  times 
merely  that  she  should  Ray  'This  young  wo-  trying  l0  fix  in  her  mind  won!  for  word  what 
mams  employed  by  me:  I  believe  her  to  be  she  meant  to  say :  revealing  no  more  of  he 
'  tZ  \ re8peit aWe>  anH  -8°  f°rth  :  aLs°'  tW  ,ami!>'  h,story  tban  "**  absolutely  necetarv 
So  JL  ♦  %T  a  pr0m'Se  t0  pay'  S"e  wil1  to  and  statin£  ber  business  in  the  briefest,  hard- 
;Sf.  hefr  P°wer(  PeTfPrm  «•'  A  «barac  est,  most  matter-of-fact  way-putting  ,t  as  a 
1W  w  ^  preSeUt  •''  a°Velty  "'  the  transVtio"   between  employer  and  employed, 

'  mu    ••■  '"  wh"'h  ti,ere  was  "°  lnore  ,avor  asked or  ,l1 

., ,    '-  ,.  ri  r,  stowed  than  could  possiblv  be  avoided.     And 

L      Whf  °^Iuf,bl.tter'  Jobanna  ;  I  know  J  as  the  sharp  east  wind  blew  across  herateve- 
d.n.     Whj  should  we  suffer  so  much  !     W  hy  ry  corner,  minute  by    minute  she   felt  herself 
Bhou  d  we  be  a  ways  dragged  down-down-  growing  more  tierce",  and  hard,  and  cold. 
in  this  way  .     Why  should  we  never  have  had      «  This  will  never  do.     I  shall  be  wicked  bv- 
any  one  to  cherish  and  take  care  o}  us,  like  and-by.     I  must  go  in  and  get  it  over." 

M"  '"r^  !m  ^hI  ,  PerhaPs  Jt  "«•"  'ell.     Well  for  her   mo- 

Miss  Leaf  hud  her  finger  on  her  child's  lips-  rally   aa  physically,  that    there   should  have 

BecaoBe  U  is  the  will  of  God."  .,.  thai  eudden  change  fro-  the  blight 


80 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


weather  outside  to  the  warm,  well-lighted  room 
where  the  good  rich  woman  sat  at  her  early 
and  solitary  tea. 

Very  solitary  it  looked — the  little  table  in 
the  centre  of  that  large  handsome  parlor,  with 
the  one  cup  and  saucer,  the  one  easy -chair. 
And  as  Hilary  entered  she  noticed,  amidst  all 
this  comfort  and  luxnry,  the  still,  grave,  al- 
most sad  expression  which  solitary  people  al- 
ways get  to  wear. 

But  the  next  minute  Miss  Balquidder  had 
turned  round,  and  risen,  smiling. 

"Miss  Leaf,  how  very  kind  of  you  to  come 
and  see  me !  Just  the  day  before  the  wedding, 
too,  when  you  must  be  so  busy!  Sit  down 
and  tell  me  all  about  it.  But  first,  my  dear, 
how  wet  your  boots  arc !  Let  me  take  them 
off  at  once." 

Which  she  did,  sending  for  her  own  big 
slippers,  and  putting  them  on  the  tiny  feet 
with  her  own  hands. 

Hilary  submitted — in  truth  she  was  top 
much  surprised  to  resist. 

Miss  Balquidder  had,  like  most  folk,  her 
opinions  or  "  crotchets  " — as  they  might  be — 
and  one  of  them  was,  to  keep  her  business  and 
friendly  relations  entirely  distinct  and  apart. 
Whenever  she  went  to  Kensington  or  her  oth- 
er establishments  she  was  always  emphatical- 
ly "the  mistress" — a  kindly  and  even  moth- 
erly mistress,  certainly,  but  still  authoritative, 
decided.  Moreover,  it  was  her  invai  iable  rule 
to  treat  all  her  employees  alike — "  making  no 
step-bairns"  among  ihem.  Thus  for  some 
time  it  had  happened  that  Hilary  had  been, 
and  felt  herself  to  be,  just  Miss  Leaf,  the  book 
keeper,  doing  her  duty  to  Miss  Balquidder, 
her  employer,  and  neither  expecting  nor  at- 
taining any  closer  relation. 

But  in  her  own  house,  or  it  might  be  from 
the  sudden  apparition  of  that  young  face  at 
her  lonely  fireside,  Miss  Balquidder  appeared 
quite  different. 

A  small  thing  touches  a  heart  that  is  6ore 
with  trouble.  When  the  good  woman  rose 
up — after  patting  the  little  feet,  and  approving 
loudly  of  the  woolen  stockings — she  saw  that 
Hilary's  whole  face  was  quivering  with  the 
effort  to  keep  back  her  tears. 

There  are  some  woman  of  whom  one  feels 
by  instinct  that  they  were,  as  Miss  Balquidder 
had  once  joking!  said  of  herself,  specially 
meant  to   be    mothers.      \nd    though,  in    its 

strango  provide! I  often  denies  the 

maternity,  itcan  not  and  does  not  mean  to  shut 
up  the  well-spring  of  that  maternal  passion — 
truly  a  passion  to  such  women  as  these,  al- 
most as  strong  as  the  passion  of  love — but,  lets 
the  stream,  which  might  othei  wise  have  bless-! 
ed  one  child  or  one  family,  flow  out  wide  andj 
far,  blessing  wherever  it  goes. 

In  a  tone  that  somehovv  touched  every  fibre! 
of  Hilary's  heart,  Miss  Balquidder  said,  plac-J 
ing  her  on  a  low  chair  beside  her  own, 


"  My  dear,  you  are  in  trouble.  I  saw  it  a 
week  or  two  ago,  but  did  not  like  to  ^speak. 
Couldn't  you  say  it  out,  and  let  me  help  you  ? 
You  need  not  be  afraid.  I  never  tell  any 
thing,  and  every  bodv  tells  every  tiling  to 
me." 

That  was  true.  Added  to  this  said  mother- 
liness  of  hers,  Mias  Balquidder  possessed  that 
faculty,  which  some  people  have  in  a  remark- 
able degree,  and  some — very  good  people  too 
— are  totally  deficient  in,  of  attracting  confi- 
[dence.  The  secrets  she  had  been  trusted  with, 
the  romances  she  had  been  mixed  up  in,  the 
iQuixotic  acts  she  had  been  called  upon  to  per- 
form during  her  long  life,  would  have  made  a 
novel — or  several  novels — such  as  no  novelist 
could  dare  to  write,  for  the  public  would  con- 
demn them  as  impossible  and  unnatural. 
iBut  all  this  experience — though  happily  it 
could  never  be  put  into  a  book — had  given  to 
the  woman  herself  a  view  of  human  nature  at 
once  so  large,  lenient,  and  just,  that  she  was 
the  best  person  possible  to  hear  the  strange 
and  pitiful  story  of  young  Aecott  Leaf. 

How  it  came  out  Hilary  hardly  krew  ;  she 
seemed  to  have  told  very  little,  and  yet  Miss 
Balquidder  guessed  it  all.  It  did  not  appear 
to  surprise  or  shock  hpr.  She  neither  began 
to  question  nor  preach  ;  she  only  laid  her  hand, 
her  large,  motherly,  protecting  hand,  on  the 
bowed  head,  saying. 

"How  much  you  must  have  suffered,  my 
poor  bairn!" 

The  soft  Scotch  tone  and  word — the  grave, 
quiet  Scotch  manner,  implying  more, than  it 
even  expressed — was  it  wonderful  if  underly- 
ing as  \vell  as  outside  influences  made  Hilary 
completely  give  way? 

Robert  Lyon  had  had  a  mother,  who  died 
when  he  was  seventeen,  but  of  whom  he  kept 
the  tenderest  remembrance,  often  saying  that 
of  all  the  ladies  he  had  met  with  in  the  world 
there  was  none  equal  to  her — the  strong,  ten- 
der, womanly  peasant  woman — refined  in  mind 
and  word  and  ways — though  to  the  last  day 
of  her  life  she  spoke  broad  Scotch,  and  did  the 
work  of  her  cottage  with  her  own  hands.  It 
seems  as  if  that  mother — toward  whom  Hila- 
ry's fancy  had  clung,  lovingly  as  a  woman 
ought  to  cling,  above  all  others,  to  the  mother 
of  the  man  she  loves — were  speaking  to  her 
now,  comforting  her  and  helping  her — com- 
fort and  help  that  it  would  have  been  sweeter 
to  receive  from  her  than  from  any  womaa  mv- 
ing. 

A  mere  fancy :  but  in  her  state  of  long  ui 
controlled  excitement  it  took  such  possession 
of  her  that  Hilary  fell  on    her  knees,  and  hie 
her  face  in  Miss  Balquidder's  lap,  sobbing 
loud. 

The  other  was  a  little  surprised  ;  it  was  n( 
her  Scotch  way  to  yield  to  emotion  before  foil 
bat  she  was  a  wise  woman,  she  asked  no  ques- 
tions, merely    held  the  quivering  hands  an<J 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


81 


smoothed  the  throbbing  head,  till  composure]  "  I  don't  quite  understand." 
returned.  Some  people  have  a  magical,  mes-|  "Then  allow  me  to  explain.  I  happen  to 
meric  power  ot  soothing  and  controlling:  it;  know  this  creditor  of  your  nephew's.  Hebe- 
washers.  When  she  took  the  poof  face  be-, ing  a  tailor  and  outfitter,  we  have  had  dealings 
tween  her  hands,  and  looked  straight  into  the  together  in  former  times,  and  I  know  him  to 
eyes,  with,  "There,  you  are  better  now,': be  a  hard  man,  an  unprincipled  man,  such  a 
Hilary  returned  the.  gaze  as  steadily,  nay,  one  as  no  young  woman  should  have  to  do 
smilingly,  and  rose.  with,  even  in  business  relations.     To  be  in  his 

"  Now,  may  I  tell  you  my  business?"  Ipower,  as  you  would  be  for  some  years  if  your 

•'Certainly,  my  dear.  When  one's  friends)  scheme  of  gradual  payment  were  carried  out, 
are  in  trouble,  the  last  thing  one  ought  to  dois:is  the  last  thing  I  should  desire  for  you.  Let 
to  sit  down  beside  them  and  moan.  Did  youjme  suggest  another  way.  Take  me  for  your 
come  to  ask  my  advice,  or  had  you  any  deli-  creditor  instead  of  him.  Pay  him  at  once,  and 
nite  plan  of  your  own?"  jl  will  write  you  a  check  for  the  amount." 

'•  I  had."     And  Hilary  told  it.  The  thing  was  put  so  delicately,  in  such  an 

"  A  very  good  plan,  and  very  generous  in  ordinary  manner,  as  if  it  were  a  mere  business 
you  to  think  of  it.  But  I  see  two  strong  ob-iarrangement,  that  at  first  Hilary  hardly  per- 
fections:  first,  whether  it  can  be  carried  out; jeeived  all  it  implied.     When  she  did — when 


secondly,  whether  it  ought." 
Hilary  shrank,  sensitively. 
"  Not  on  my   account,  my 


dear,  but.  vour 


she  found  that  it  was  in  plain  terms  agift  or 
loan  of  eighty  pounds  offered  by  a  person  al- 
most a  stranger,  she  was  at  first  quite  bewil- 


own.  I  often  see  people  making  martyrs  ofdered.  Then  (ah!  let  us  not  blame  her  if  she 
themselves  for  some  worthless  character  on  I  carried  to  a  morbid  excess  that  noble  indepen- 
whom  the  sacrifice  is  utterly  wasted.  I.  object  deuce  which  is  the  foundation  of  all  true  dig- 
to  this,  as  I  would  object  to  throwing  myself;nity  in  man  or  woman)  she  shrunk  back  into 
or  my  friend  into  a  blazing  house,  unless  1  herself',  overcome  with  annoyance  and  shame. 
were,  morally  certain  there  was  a  life  to  be  At  last  she  forced  herself  to  say,  though  the 
saved.     Is  there  in  this  case?"  words  came  out  rather  coldly. 

M  I  think  there  is !  I  trust  in  Heaven  there  "  You  are  very  good,  and  I  am  exceedingly 
ie P°  said  Hilary,  earnestly.  i obliged  to  you  ;  but  I  never  borrowed  money 

There  was  both  pleasure  and  pity  expressed  in  my  life.     It  is  quite  impossible." 
in  MissBalquidder's  countenance  as  she  replied,  |     "  Very  well ;  I  can  understand  your  feelings. 
"  Be  it  so:  that  is  a  matter  on  which  no  one  I  beg  your  pardon,"  replied  Miss  Balquidder, 
can  judge  except  yourselfc     But  on  the  other  also  somewhat  coldly. 

matter  you  ask  my  advice,  and  i  must  give  it.  They  sat  silent  and  awkward,  and  then  the 
To  maintain  two  ladies  and  pay  a  debt  of  elderly  lady  took  out  a  pencil  and  began  to 
eighty  pounds  out  of  one  hundred  a  year  is  'make  calculations  in  her  memorandum  book, 
simply  impossible."  "  I   am  reckoning  what  is  the  largest  sum 

•'  With  Johanna's  income  and  mine  it  will  per  month  that  you  could  reasonably  be  ex- 
!>o  a  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  and  some  pected  to  spare,  and  how  you  may  make  the 
odd  shillings  a  year."  »  most  of  what  remains.     Are  you   aware  that 

'•  You  accurate  girl !  But  even  with  this  it  London  lodgings  are  very  expensive?  I  am 
can  not  be  done,  unless  you  were  Jo  live  in  a  thinking  that  if  you  were  to  exchange  out  of 
manner  so  restricted  in  the  commonest  com  the  Kensington  shop  into  another  I  have  at 
forts  that  at  your  sister's  age  she  would  be  sure  Richmond.  I  could  offer  you  the  first  floor  a- 
to  suffer.  You  must  look  on  the  question  bove  it  for  much  less  rent  than  yoli  pay  Mrs. 
from  all  sides,  my  dear.  You  must  be  just  to  Jones  ;  and  you  could  have  your  sister  living 
others   as  well    as  to  that  young   man,    who  with  you." 

seems  never  to —  But  I  will  leave  him  un  "  Ah  !  that  would  make  us  both  so  much 
judged.'-'  ,happier!     How  good  you  are!" 

They  were  both  silent  for  a  minute,  and  then  "You  will  see  I  only  wish  to  help  you  to 
Mis«  Balquidder  said :  "  I  feel  certain  there  is  help  yourself;  not  to  put  you  under  any  obli 
but  one  rational  way  of  accomplishing  the  <ration.  Though  !  can  not  see  any  thing  so 
thing,  if  you  are  hent  upon  doing  it.  if  yon*  very  terrible  in  your  being  slightly  indebted 
own  judgment  and  conscience  tell  yon  i  "ugUl  to  an  old  woman,  who  Ray  neither  chick  nor 
to  be  done.     Is  it  so?"  child? and  is  al  perfect  liberty  to  do  what  she 

"Yes,"  said  Hilary,  firmly.  likes  with  her  own." 

rfhe  old  .Scotswoman  took  her  hand  with  a  There  was  a  pathos  in  the  tone  which  smote 
warm  pressure.  "  Very  well.  I  don't  blame  Hilary  into  quick  contrition, 
you.  I  might  have  done  the  same  myself.  '"Forgive  me!  But  I  have  such  a  horror  or 
Xow  to  my  plan.  Miss  Leaf,  have  you  known  borrowing  money — you  must  know  why  after 
me  long  enough  to  confer  on  me  the  benedic-  ;.at  I  have  told  you  of  our  family.  You  must 
tion—  one  of  the  few  tdiat  we  rick  folk  possess  surely  understand — " 
'  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive  V  "\     "I  do  fully  ;  but  there  are  limits  even  to  in« 


82 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


dependence.     A  person  who,  for  his  own  pleas- 'and  precious  to  a  woman's  heart,  and  getting 
ure,  is  ready  to  take   money  from  any  body  instead  only  what  Hilary  now  gave  her — the 
and  every  body,  without  the  slightest  prospect  half-sweet,  half-bitter  payment  ot  gratitude, 
or  intention  of  returning  it,  is   quite  different      ""Well,  my  bairn,  what  is  to  be  done?" 
from  a  friend  who  in  a  case  of  emergency  ac-|     "  I  will  do  whatever  you  think  right,"  mur- 
cepts  help  from  another  friend,  being  ready  and  mured  Hilary, 
willing  to  take  every  means  of  repayment, 

I  knew  you   were,  and    meant  you   to  be.    J  

meant,  as  you  suggested,  to  stop  out  of  yom 
salary  so  much  per  month,  till  I  had  my  eighty 
pounds  sate  back  again." 

"  But  suppose  you  never  had  it  back?  I  am  It  was  not  a  cheerful  morning  on  which  to 
young  and  strong;  still  I  might  fall  ill — I  be  married.  A  dense,  yellow,  London  fog, 
might  die,  and  you  never  be  repaid."  the  like  of  which  the  Misses  Leaf  had  never 

"Yes,  I  should,"  said  Miss  Balquidder,  yet  seen,  penetrated  into  eveiy  corner  of  the 
with  a  serious  smile.  "  You  forget,  my  dear  parlor  at  Xo.  15,  where  they  were  breakfast- 
bairn,  '  Inastkuch  as  ye  have  done  it  to  ing  drearily  by  candle-light,  all  in  their  wed- 
these  little  one's,  ye  havt  done  it  unto  me.'  ' Me  ding  attire.  They  had  been  up  since  six  in 
thatgivetJi  to  the  poor  lendeth  to  ih<  Lord.'  1  morning,  and  Elizabeth  had  dressed  her  three 
have  lent  Him  a  good  deal  at  different  times,  mistresses  one  after  the  other,  taking  exceed 
and  He  has  always  paid  me  back'with  usury.''  mg  pleasure  in    the    performance.     For   she* 

There  was  something  at  once  solemn  and  a  ■  was  still  little    more  than   a  girl,  to  whom  a 
little  sad  in  the  way  the  old  lady  spoke.     Hil  j  wedding  was  a  weddings  and  this  was  the  first 
ary  forgot  her   Mvn  side  of  the  subject:  herjshe  had "ever  had  to  do  with  in  her  life, 
pride,  her  humiliation.  True,  it  disappointed   her  in    some  things.^ 

"  But  do  you  not  think.  Miss  Balquidder.fShe  was  a  little  surprised  that  last  evening 
that  one  ought  to  work  on.  struggle  on,  to  the  had  passed  off  just  like  all  other  evenings, 
last  extremity,  before  one  accepts  an  obliga-jThe  interest  and  bustle  of  packing  soon  sub- 
tion,  most  of  all  a  money  obligation?"  ed — the   packing    consisting   only   of    the. 

"  I  do,  as  a  general  principle.  Yet  money  traveling  trunk,  for  the  rest  of  the  In 
is.  not  the  greatest  thing  in  this  world,  that  a! went  straight  to  Ruxsell  Square,  every  means 
pecuniary  debt  should  be  the  worst  to  bear,  having  been  taken  to  ignore  the  very  existence 
And  sometimes  one  of  the  kindest  acts  you  can  ;of  Xo.  15;  and  then  the  three  ladies  had  sup- 
do  to  a  fellow-creature — one  that  touches  and 'per  as  usual,  and  went  to  bed  at  their  custom- 
softens  his  heart,  nay,  perhaps  wins  jt  to  you  ary  hour  without  any  special  demonstrations 
for  life,  is  to  accept  a  favor  from  him." '  (of  emotion  or   affection.     To   Elizabeth   thi.- 

Hilary  made  no  reply.  was  strange.     She    had    not   yet    learned  the 

"I  speak  a  little  from  experience.  1  have  unspeakable  bitterness  ot  a  parting  where  no 
not  had  a  very  happy  life  myself;  at  least  body  has  any  grief  to  restrai  a. 
most  people  would  say  so  if  they  knew  it  :  but,  <  m  a  wedding  morning,  of  course,  there  'is 
the  Lord  has  made  it  up  to  me  by  giving  rue  no  time  to  be  spared  lor  sentiment.  The 
the  means  of  bringing  happiness,  in  money  as  principal  business  appeared  to  be — dressing. 
\\^11  as  other  ways,  to  other  people.  Moat  of  Mr.  Ascojt  had  insisted  on  doing  his  part  in 
us  have  our  favorite  luxuries:  this  is  mine,  making  his  nev.  connections  appear  "respect  - 
I  like  to  do  people  good  :  I  like,  also  — though iable  "  at  his  marriage,  and  for  Selina's  sake 
maybe  that  is  a  mean  weakness— to  feel  that  they  had  consented.  Indeed,  it  was  inevita- 
I  do  it.  If  all  whom  I  have  been  mad.:  in-  ble :  they  had  no  money  whatever  to  clothe 
strumental  in  helping  had  -aid  to  me,  a*  you  themselves  withal.  They  must  either  hav< 
have  done,  '  f   will  not  be  helped.   I  will  epted  Mr.  Ascotfs   gifts — in   which,  to  do 

lie   made   happy."  it  would   have   been   rather  him  justice,  he  was  both  thoughtful  and  libe- 
hard  for  me.'  ral — or  they  must  have  staid    away  from  the 

And  a  smile,  half  humorous,  hall  pad,  came  wedding  altogether,  which    they  did    not  like 
o\er  the  hard-featurned  lace,  spiritualizing  its  to  do  "for  the  sake  of  the  family." 
whole  expression.  So.  with  a  sense  of  doing  their  last  duty  by 

Hilary  wavered.  She  compared  her  own'the  sister,  who  would  he.  they  feh,  hencefor- 
lite,  happy  still,  and  hopeful,  for, all  i ft  cares,  n  isternomore, MU  ..Hired  herself 
'.;.  ith  that  of  this  lonely  woman,  whose  only  in  her  violet  silk  and  white  China  shawl,  and 
Messing  was  her  riches,  except  the  generous  Miss  llilarv  put  on  her  silver-grey  poplin,  with 
heart  which  sanctified  them,  and  made  them  a  cardinal  cape,  i  in  fashiou,  trim- 
such.  Humbled,  nay,  ashamed,  she  took  and  med  with  white  .-■  own.  It  was  rather 
d  the  kindly  hand  which  has  succored  80  an  elderly  costume  for  a  hridemaid  :  bin  she 
many,  yet  which,  in  the  inscrutable  mystery  was  determined  to  dress  warmly,  and  not 
i>t' Providence,  had  been  lelt  to  go  down  to  the  risk,  in  muslins-  and  laces,  the  health  which 
grave  alone  ;  missingall  that  is  personal,  dear,,to  her  now  was  money,  life — nay,  honor. 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


83 


For  Ascott's  creditor  had  been  already  paid: 
Miss  Balquidder  never    let  grass  grow   ur*der 
her  feet.     When  11  nary  returned  to  her  sisters 
iliat  day  there  was  no  longer  any  fear  of  pub 
lie  exposure  :  she  bad  the  receipt" 
hand,  and  she  was  Miss    Balquiad 


portrait  of  our  gracious  Queen — a  large  round 
brim,  with  a  wreath  of  roses  inside ;  while 
Miss  Leaf's  was  somewhat  like  it,  only  with 
little  bunches  of  white  ribbon:  "for,"  she 
1  bill  in  herjsaid,  "  my  time  of  roses  has  gone  by."  But 
ler's  debtor!her  sweet  faded  face  had  a  peace  that  was  not 


10  the  extent  of  eighty  pounds.  in  the  other  two — not  even  in  Hilary's. 

But  it  was  no  debt  of  disgrace  or  humiliV  But  the  time  arrived;  the  carriage  drew  up 
tion,  nor  did  she  feel  it  as  such.  She  had^at  the  door.  Then  nature  and  sisterly  feeling 
learned  the  lesson  which  the  largehearted  rich  asserted  themselves  for  a  minute.  Miss  Seh- 
can  always  teach  the  poor;  that,  while  there  islna  "  gave  way,"  not  to  any  loud  or  indecor- 
sometimes.  to  some  people,  no  »more  gallinglous  extent,  to  nothing  that  could  in  the  least 
chain,  there  is  to  others— and  these  are  the' harm  her  white  satin,  or  crumple  hej  laces 
highest  natures,  too — no  more  firm  and  sacrediand  ribbons  :   but   she  did  shed  a  tear  or   two 


bond  than  gratitude.  But  still  the  debt  was 
there:  and  Hilary  would  never  feel  quite  easy 
till  it  was  paid — in  money,  at  least.  The  gen- 
erosity she  never  wished  to  repay.  She  would 
rather  feel  it  wrapping  her  round,  like  an  arm 


— real  honest  tears — kissed  her  sisters  affec- 
tionately, hoped  they  would  be  very  happy  at 
Richmond,  and  that  they  would  often  come  to 
see  her  at  Russell  Square. 

You  know,"  said  she,  half  apologetically,' 


tHat  was   heavy  only    through   its   exceeding!  "it  is  a"  great  deal  better  for  one  of  us  at  least 


tendemef8,  to  the  end  of  her  days. 


;  to  be  married  and   settled.     Indeed   I  assure 


Nevertheless  she  had  arranged  that  therelyou,  I  have  done  it  all  for   the  good  of  my 
was  to  be  a  regular  monthly  deduction  from  family.1" 
her  salary  ;  and    how.    by    retrenchment,  to      And  for  the  time  being  she  devoutly  believ- 


make  this  monthly  payment  as  large  as  she 
could,  was  a  question  which  had  occupied  her- 
self and  .Johanna  for  a  good  while  after  they 
had  retired  to  rest.      For  there  was  lrb  time  to 


ed  she  had. 

So  it  was  all  over.  Elizabeth  herself,  from 
the  aisle  of  St.  Pancras  Church,  watched  the 
beginning  and  ending  of  the  show  ;  a  very  fine 


be  lost.  Mrs.  Jones  must  be  given  notice  to;  show,  with  a  number  of  handsomely  dressed 
and  there  was  another  notice  to  be  given,  if  people,  wedding  guests,  who  seemed  to  stare 
the  Richmond  plan  were  carried  Out •  another;about  them  a  good  deal  and  take  little  interest 


sad  retrenchment,  threading  which,  when 
Elizabeth  brought  up  supper.  Miss  Hilary 
could  hardly  look  the  girl  in  the  lace,  and, 
when  she  bade  her  good  night,  had  felt  almost 
like  a  secret  conspirator. 

For  she  knew  that,  if  the  money  to  clear 
this  debt  was  to  be  saved,  they  must  part  with 
Elizabeth. 

No  doubt  the  persona  ice   would  be 

considerable,  for  Hilary  would  have  to  do  the 
work  of  their  two  rooms  with  her  own  hands, 
and  give  up  a  hundred  little  comforts  in  which 
Elizabeth,  now  become  a  most  clever  and'effi- 
cient  servant,  had  made  herself  necessary  to 
them  bdth.     But  the  two  ladies  did  not  think 


in  either  bride  or  bridegroom.  The  only  per- 
sons Elizabeth  recognized  were  her  mistresses 
— Misi  Leaf,  who  kept  her  veil  down  and  never 
stirred:  and  Miss  Hilary,  who.  stood  close 
behind  the  bride,  listening  with  downcast  eyes 
to  the  beautiful  marriage  service.  It  must  have 
touched  her  more  than  on  her  sister's  account, 
for  a  tear,  gathered  under  each  eyelash,  silently 
rolled  down  the  soft  cheek  and  fell." 

"Miss  Hilary's  an*  angel,  and  he'll  be  a 
lucky  man  that  gets  her,"  meditated  her  faith- 
ful ''bower-maiden"  of  old;  as,  a  little  ex- 
cited by  the  event  of  the  morning,  she  stood 
by  the  mantle-piece  and  contemplated  a  letter 
which  had  come  after  the  ladies  departed;  one 


of  that  at  the  moment ;  they  only  thought  of'of  these  regular  monthly  Indian  letters,  after 
the  pain  of  parting  with  her.  They  thought' which,  Elizabeth  was  sharp  enough  to  notice, 
of  it  sorely,  even  though  she  was  but  a  servant,  Miss  Hilary's  step  always  grew  lighter  and 
and  there  was  a  family  parting  close  at  hand. i her  eye  brighter  for  many  days. 
Alas  !  people  must  take  what  they  earn.  It1  "  It  must  be  a  nice  thing  to  have  somebody 
was  a  melancholy  fact  that,  of  the  two  im- fond  of  one,  and  somebody  to  be  fond  of," 
pending  losses,  the  person  they  should  miss  meditated  she.  And  "old  fashioned  piece  of 
most  would  be,  not  their  sister,  but  Elizabeth. [goods  "  as  she  was — according  to  Mrs.  Jones 


Both  regrets  combined  made  them  sit  at  the 
breakfast  table — the  last  meal  they  should 
ever  take  together  as  a  family — sad  and  sorry, 
speaking  about   little   else   than  the   subject 


(who  now,  from  the  use  she  was  in  the  Jones's 
•',  patronized   and  confided  in    her   ex- 
tremely) some  little  bit  of  womanly  craving 
after  the   woman's  one  hope   and  crown  of 


which  presented  itself  as  easiest  and   upper-bliss  crept  into  the  poor  maid-servant's  heart, 
most,  namely,  clothes.  But  it  was  not   for  the  maid-servant's   usual 

Finally,  they  stood  all  completely  an  ayed,i  necessity  —  a  "sweetheart"  —  somebody  to 
even  to  bonnets;  Hilary  looking  wonderfully  "  keep  company  with  ;"  it  was  rather  for  some- 
bewitching  in  hers,  which  was  the  very  pat-ibody  to  love,  and  perhaps  take  care  of  a  little, 
tern  of  one  that  may  still  be  seen.in  a  youthful  |  People  love  according  to  their  natures-  and 


84 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


Elizabeth's  was  a  strong  nature  ;  it?  principal  the  result  of  much  "knocking  about"  ever 
element  being  a  capacity  for  passionate  devo-  sindte  childhood.  Besides,  his  master,  the  lit- 
tedness,  almost  unlimited  in  extent.  Such  erary  gentleman,  who  had  picked  him  out  of 
women,  who  love  most,  are  not  always,  in-  the  printing  office,  had  taken  a  deal  of  pains 
deed  very  rarely,  loved  best.  And  so  it  was! with  him.  T^om  was,  for  his  station,  a  very 
perhaps  as  well  that  poor  Elizabeth  should  intelligent  and  superior  young  man.  Not  a 
make  up  her  mind,  as  she  did  very  composed-  boy,  though  he  was  still  under  twenty,  but  a 
ly,  that  she  herself  should  never  be  married  ;  young  man:  that  precocity  of  development 
but  after  that  glorious  wedding  of  Miss  Hila-  which  often  accompanies  a  delicate  constitu- 
ry's  to  Mr.  Lyon,  should  settle  down  to  take  tion,  making  him  appear,  as  he  waB  indeed, 
care  of  Miss  Leaf  all  her  days.  in  mind  and  character,  fully  six  or  seven  years 

"  And  it  I  turn  out  only  half  as   good  and  older  than  his- real  age. 
contented  as  my  mistress,  it  can't  be  such  a,     He  was  a   handsome  fellow,    too,   though 
dreadful  thing  to  be   an  old   maid  after  ail,' jsmall  :  dark  haired,  dark  eyed,  with  regular 
stoically  said  Elizabeth  Hand.  and  yet  sensitive  and  mobile  features.     Alto- 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  her  mouth  gether  Tom  Cliffe  was  decidedly  interesting, 
when  her  attention  was  caught  by  some  oneinand  Elizabeth  took  great  pleasure  in  looking 
the  passage  inquiring  for  her:  yes,  actually, at  him,  and  in  thinking,  with  a  certain  half 
for  her.  She  could  hardly  believe  her  eyes  motherly,  half  romantic  satisfaction,  that  but 
when  she  perceived  it  was  her  new-found  old  for  her,  and  her  carrying  him  home  from  u#- 
acquaintance,  Tom  Cliffe.  derthe  horse's  heels,  he  might,  humanly  epeak- 

He  was  dressed  very  well,  out  of  livery  :  ing,  have  been  long  ago  buried  in  Stowbury 
indeed,  he  looked  so  extremely  like  a  gentle-  church  yard. 

man  that  Mrs.  Jones's  little  girl  took  him  for  "  I  have  a  'church  yard  cough'  at  times 
one,  called  him  "Sir,"  and  showed  him  into  still,"  said  he,  when  speaking  of  this  little 
the  parlor.  episode  of  early  life.     "  I  don't   think  1  shall 

'."All  right.  I  thought  this  was  the  house,  ever  live  to  be  a  middle-aged  man."  Audhe 
Uncommon  sharp  of  me  to  hunt  you  out :  shook  lift  head,  and  looked  melancholy  and 
wasn't  it  Elizabeth  ?"  poetical:  nay,  even   showed   Elizabeth  some 

But  Elizabeth  was  a  little  still",  flurried,  and  poetry  that  he  iiimself  had  written  on  the  sub- 
perplexed.     Her  mistresses  were  out;  she  did  ject,  which  was  clever  enough  in  its  way. 
not  know  whether  she  ought  to  ask  Tom  in,  es-      Elizabeth's  intere^grew.     An  ordinary  ba- 
pecially  as  it  must  be  into   the  parlor  :  there  ker  or  butcher  boy  would  not  have  attracted 
was  no  other  place  to  take  him  to.  her  in  the  least  ;  but  here  was  something  in 

However,  Tom  settled  the  matter  with  a  the  shape  of  a  hero,  somebody  who  at  once 
conclusive,  "Oh,  gammon!" — sat  himself  touched  her  sympathies  and  roused  her  admi- 
Jown,  and  made  himself  quite  comfortable,  ration.  For  Tom  was  quite  as  well  informed 
And  Elizabeth  was  so  glad  to  see  him — glad  as  she  was  herself;  more  so.  indee<J.  He  was 
to  have  another  chance  of  talking  about  dear  one  of  the  many  shrewd  and  clever  working 
old  Stowbury.  It  could  not  be  wrong  :  she  men  who  were  then  beginning  to  rise  up  and 
would  not  say  a  word  about  the  family,  not  think  for  themselves,  and  educate  themselves. 
even  tell  him  she  lived  with  the  Misses  Leaf  He  attended  classes  at  mechanics'  institutions, 
if  she  could  help  it.  And  Tom  did  not  seem  and  young  men's  debating  societies;  where 
in  the  least  curious.  every  topic  of  the  day.  religion,  politics,  polit- 

"  Now,  I  call  this  quite  a  coincidence.  I ,ical  economy,  was  handled  freely,  as  the  young 
was  stopping  at  St.  Pancras  Church  to  look  at i  do  handle  tbese  serious  things.  He  threw 
a  wedding — some  old  city  fogy  who  lives  in  himself,  heart  and  soul,  into  the  new  raove- 
Russell  Square,  and  is  making  a  great  splash ;;ment,  which,  like  all  revolutions,  had  at  first 
and  there  I  see  you,  Elizabeth,  standingin  the  its  great  and  fatal  dangers,  but  yet  resulted  in 
crowd,  and  looking  so  nice  and  spicy — as  fresh  much  good  ;  clearing  the  political  sky,  and 
as  an  apple  and  as  brisk  as  a  bee.  I  hummed  bringing  all  sorts  of  hidden  abuses  under  the 
and  hawed  and  whistled,  but  I  couldn't  catch  sharp  eyes  of  that  great  scourge  of  evil-doers 
your  eye:  then  I  missed  you,  and   was  vexed  — public  opinion. 

above  a  bit,  till  I  saw  one  like  you  going  in  at1  Yet  Elizabeth,  reared  under  the  wing  of  the 
this  door,  so  I  just  knocked  and  asked  :  and  conservative  Misses  Leaf,  was  a  little  startled 
here  you  are  !  'Pon  my  life,  I  am  very  glad  when  TomjUliff'e,  who  apparently  liked  talk- 
to  see  you."  ing  and  being  listened  to,  gave  her  a  long  dis- 

"Thank  you,  Tom,"  said  Elizabeth,  pleas-  sertation  on  ihe  true  principles  of  the  Charter, 
ed,  even  grateful  for  the  trouble  he  had  taken  and  how  Frosi.  Williams,  and  Jones — names 
about  her:  she  had  so  few  friends:  in  truth,  all  but  forgotten  now—  were  very  ill-iused  men, 
actually  none.  actual  martyrs.     She  was   more  than  startled 

They  began  to  talk,  and  Tom  Cliffe  talked! — shocked  indeed — until  there  came  a  reaction 

»  exceedingly  well.     He  had  added  to  his  natu-  of  the  deepest  pity — when   he  confessed  that 

ral  cleverness  a  degree  of  London  sharpness,  hf  never  w^nt  to  church,     He  saw   no  use  in 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


*oine  he  said  s  the  parsons  were  all  shams,!  So  Elizabeth  made  every  thing  ready  for 
paid lareelv  to  chatter  about  what  they  did  them,  steadily  putting  Tom  Cliffe  out  of  her 
not  understand-;  the  only  real  religion  waslmind.  One  thing  she  was  glad  of  that  talk- 
that  which  a  man  thought  out  for  himself,  andjing  so  much  about  his  own  affairs,  he  had  tor- 
acted  out  for  himself.  Which  was  true  enough, (gotten  to  inquire  concerning  hers,  and  was 
though  only  a  hair  truth;  and  innocent  Eliz-;9till  quite  ignorant  even  of  her  mistresses 
abeth  did  not  see  the  other  half.  name.     He  therefore  could  tell  no  tales  of  the 

But  "she  was  touched  and  carried  away  by  I  Leaf  family  at  Stowbury.  Still  she  determin- 
the  earnestness  and  enthusiasm  of  the  lad,  ed  at  once  to  inform  Mibs  Hilary  that  he  had 
wild,  fierce  iconoclast  as  he  was,  ready  to  cast  been  here,  but  that,  if  she  wished  it,  he  should 
down  the  whole  fabric  of  Church  and  State ;  never  come  again.  And  it  spoke  well  for  her 
though  without  any  personal  hankering  after  Resolve,  that  while  resolving  she  was  startled 
lawless  rights  and  low  pleasures.  His  solelo  find  how  very  sorry  she  should  feel  if  lorn 
idol  was,  as  he  said,  intellect,  and  that  was  Cliffe  never  came  again. 


his  preservation. 

Also,  the  fragile  health  which  was  betrayed 
in  every  flash  of  his  eye,  every  flush  of  his 
sallow  cheek,  made  Tom  Cliffe,  even   in  the 


I  know  I  am  painting  this  young  woman 
with  a  strangely  tender  conscience,  a  refine- 
ment of  feeling,  and  a  general  moral  sensitive- 
ness which  people  say  is  seldom   or  never  to 


hours  he  staid  with  her,  come  very  closelbe  found  in  her  rank  of  life.  And  why  not? 
to  Elizabeth's  heart.  It  was  such  a  warm  Because  mistresses  treat  servants  as  servants, 
heart  such  a  liberal  heart,  thinking  so  little  and  not  as  women  ;  because  in  the  sharp,  hard 
of  itself  or  of  its  own  value.  line  they  draw,  at  the  outset,  between  them- 

So  here  bogan  to  be  told  the  old  story,  fa-jselves  and  their  domestics,  they  give  no  chance 
miliar  in  kitchens  as  parlors;  but,  from  the  for  any  womanliness  to  be  developed.  And 
higher  brin^in^  up  of  the  two  parties  concern-therefore  since  human  nature  is  weak,  and 
ed,  conducted  in  this  case  more  after  the  fash-  without  help  from  without,  a  long  degradfed 
ion  of  the  latter  than  the  former.  class  can   never  rise,   sweet-hearts   wil 


Elizabeth  JIand  was  an  exceptional  person, 
and  Tom  had  the  sense  to  see  that  at  once. 
He  paid  her  no  coarse  attentions,  did  not  at- 
tempt to  make  love  to  her  :  but  he  liked  her, 


come  crawling  through  back  entries  and  down 
at  area  doors ;  mistresses  will  still  have  to 
dismiss  helpless  and  fallen,  or  brazen  in  ini- 
quity, many  a  wretched  girl  who  once  was  in- 


and'he  let  her  see  that  he  did.  True,  she  was  nocent ;  or,  if  nothing  actually  vicious  results, 
not  pretty,  and  she  was  older  than  he  ;  but  may  have  many  a  good,  respectable  servant, 
that  to  a  boy  of  nineteen  is  rather  flattering  who  left  to  get  married,  return,  complaining 
than  otherwise.  Also,  for  there  is  a  law  even  that  her  "  young  man,"  whom  she  knew  so 
under  the  blind  mystery  of  likings  and  fallings  J  little  about,  has  turned  out  a  drudken  scoiin- 
inlove— a  certain  weakness  in  him,  that  weak-  drel  of  a  husband,  who  drives  her  back  to  her 
ness  which  generally  accompanies  th«  poeti-Jold  comfortable  "  place"  to  beg  for  herself 
cal  nature,  clung  to  the  quiet,  solid,  practica^and  her  starving  babies  a  morsel  of  bread, 
strength  of  hers.  He  liked  to  talk  and  be' lis-.  When,  with  a  vivid  blush  that  she  could 
tened  to  by  those  silent,  admiring,  gentle  gray  not  repress,  Elizabeth  told  her  mistress  that 
eyes:  and  he  thought  it  very  pleasant  when, (Tom  Cliffe  had  been  to  see  her,  the  latter  re- 
with'a  motherly  prudence,  she  warned  him  to,plied  at  first  carelessly,  for  her  mind  was  pre- 
be  carelul  over"  his  cough,  and  gave  him  a  occupied.  Then,  her  attention  caught  by  the 
flannel  breast-plate  to  protect  his  chest  against' aforesaid  blush,  Miss  Hilary  asked, 
the  cold.  "How  old  is  the  lad?" 

When  he  went  away  Tom  was  so  far  in  love!     "Nineteen." 
that,  following  the  free  and  easy  ways  of  his,     "That's  a  bad  age,  Elizabeth,     loo  old  to 
class,  he  attempted  to  give  Elizabeth  a  kiss:  be  a  pet,   and  rather  too  young  for  a  hus- 
but  she  drew   back  so  hotlv  that  he  begged  band." 

her  pardon,    and   slipped  away  rather  con-j     "  I  never  thought  of  such   a  thing,     said 
founded.  'Elizabeth,  warmly — and  honestly,  at  the  time. 

"That's  an  odd   sort  of  young   woman;!     "Did  he  want  to  come  and  see  you  again  ?" 

said  he  to  himself. 


;  He  said  so." 

"  Oh,  well,  if  he  is  a  steady,  respectable  lad 

I    should  like  to 


there'e  gomething  iu  her,"  t 

"  I'll  get  a  kiss,  though,  by-and-by." 

Meanwhile  Elizabeth,  having  forgotten  all  there  can  be  no  objection, 
about  her  dinner,  sat  thinking,  actually  doingsee  him  myself  next  time." 
nothing  but  thinking,  until  within  half  fin  j  And  then  a  sudden  sharp  recollection  that 
hour  of  the  time  when  her  mistresses  might . there  would  likely  be  no  next  time,  in  their 
«be  expected  back.  They  were  to  go  direct  tojservice  at  least,  made  Miss  Hilary  feel  quite  a 
the  hotel,  breakfast,  wait  till  the  newly-mar-hypocrite. 

ried  couple  had  departed,  and  then  come  "Elizabeth,"  said  she,  "we  will  speak 
home.  They  would  be  sure  to  be  weary,  and.about  Tom  Cliffe— is  not  that  hie  name  ?■— by- 
*»nt  iaeir  tea.  land-by.    Now,  as  soon  as  tea  is  over,  eay  W- 


86 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


ter  wants  to  talk  to  you.     When  you  are  ready,:     "That's  right,  Elizabeth,"  said  Miss  Hila- 
will  you  come  up  stairs?"  .  softly.     "  All  these   changes  are  very  bit- 

She  spoke  in  an  especially  gentle  tone,  so  ter  to  us  also,  but  we  bear  them.  There  is 
that  by  no  possibility  could  Elizabeth  fancy  nothing  lasting  in  this  world,  except  doing 
they  were  displeased  with  her.  right,  and  being  good  and  faithful  and  helpful 

Sow,  knowing  the  circumstances  of  the  to  one  Knottier." 
family,  Elizabeth's  conscience  had  often  smit-  She  sighed.  Possibly  there  had  been  sad 
ten  her  that  she  must  eat  a  great  deal,  that  tidings  in  the  letter  which  she  still  held  in  her 
her  wages,  paid  regularly  month  by  month,  hand,  clinging  to  ft  as  we  do  to '  something 
must  make  a  great*hole  in  her  mistress's  in-  which,  however  sorely  it  hurts  us.  we  would 
cenie.  She  was,  alack!  a  sad  expense,  and  i,ot  ptr:  with  for  the  whole  world.  But  there 
she  tried  to  lighten  her  cost  in  every  possible,was  no  hopelessness  or  despair  in  her  tone, 
way.  But  it  never  struck  her  thattheyeould  and  Elizabeth  caught  the  influence  of  that 
do  without  her,  or  that   any  need  would  arise  true  courageous  heart. 

for  their  doing  so.  So  she  went  into  the  par-  '  Perhaps  you  may  be  able  to  take  me  back 
lor  quite  unsuspiciously,  and  found  Miss  Leaf  again  soon.  Ma'am,"  said  she,  looking  tovvard 
lying  on  the  sofa,  and  Miss  Hilary  reading  a-jMiss  Leaf.  "And  meantime  I  might  get  a 
loud  the  letter  from  India.  But  it  was  laid  place:  Mrs.  Jones  has  told  me  of  several:" 
quietly  aside  as  she  said,  and  she  stopped,  afraid  lest  it  might  be  found 

"Johanna,  Elizabeth  is  here."  out  bow  often  Mrs.  Jones   had  urged  her  to 

Then  Johanna,  rousing  herself  to  say  what  "  better  herself,"  and  she  had  indignantly  re- 
must  be  said,  but  putting  itas  gently  and  kjnd-  fused.     "Or,"  (a   bright   idea  occurred)  "  1 
Iv  as  she  couUl,  told  Elizabeth,  what  mistresses  bonder  if  Mi»s  Selina.  that   is.    Mrs.  Ascott, 
often  think  it  below   their  dignity  to   tell   to  would  take  me  in  at  Russell  Square?" 
servants,  the    plain    truth — namely,    that  cir-      Hilary  looked  hard  at  her. 
cumstances  obliged  herself  and  Miss  Hilary"    "  Would  you  really  like  that?" 
to  retrench   their  expenses  as    much  as    they       "  Yes,  I  should :  for  I  should  see  and  hear 
possibly  could.     That  they  were  going  to  live  of  yoi.     Miss  Hilary,  if  you    please,!  wish 
in  two  little  rooms  at    Richmond,  where  they  you  would  ask  Mrs.  Ascott  to  take  me." 
would  board  with  the  inmates  of  the  house.  And  Hilaiy,   much   surprised — for  she  was 

"And  so.  and  so — "  Miss  Leaf  faltered.     Ijt  well  acquainted  with  Elizabeth's   sentm, 
was  very  hard  to  Bay  it  with  those  eager  eyes  toward  both  Mr.  Ascott  and  the  late  Miss  Se- 
fixed  upon  her.  lina — promised. 

Hilary  took  up  the  word — 

"And  so,  Elizabeth,  much  as  it  grieves  us..  

we  shall  be   obl'ged  to   part   with    you.     We 
cannot  any  longer  afford  to  keep  a  servant." 
No  answer. 

"It  is  not  even  as  it  was  once  before,  when 
we  thought  you  might  do  better  for  yourself,  leave  her  in,  if  not  happiness,  great  peace. 
We  know,  if  it  were  possible,  you  would  rath-  Peace  which,  after  these  stormy  months,  was 
er  stay  with  us,  and  we  would  rather  '^eeplan  actual  paradiefe  of  calm  to  both  herself  and 
vou.     It  is  like  parting  with  one  of  ou_  jwri  Johanna. 

family."  And  Miss  Hilary's  voice  too1  failed.  Their  grief  for  Ascott  had  softened  down. 
"  However,  there  is  no  helpWor  it :  we  -  Tic  very  hopelessness  gave  it  resignation, 
part."  There  was  nothing  more  to  be  done;  they  had 

Elizabeth,  recovered  from  her  first  bewilder-  done  all  they  could,  both  to  find  him  out  and 
ed  grief,  was  on  the  point  of  bursting  out  into  to  save  him  from  the  public  disgrace  which 
entreaties  that  she  might  dp  like  ma'ny  an- might  blignt  any  hope  of  reformation.  Now 
other  faithful  servant,  live  withoul  put  the  result  must  be  left  in  higher  hands. 

up  with  any  hardships,  rather  than  he  sent  Only  at  times  fits  of  restless  trouble  would 
away.  But  something  in  Miss  Hilary's  man- come;  times  when  a  sudden  knock  at  the  door 
ner  told  her  it  would  be  useless — worse  than  would  make  Johanna  shake  nervously  tor 
useless,  painful:  and  she  would  do  any  thing  minutes  afterward:  when  Hilary  walked  about 
rather  than  give  her  mistress  pain.  When,  ev«y  where  with  her  mind  preoccupied, -and 
utterly  unable  to  control  it,  she  gave  vent  toiher  eyes  open  to  notice  every  chance  passer- 
one  loud  sob.  the  expression  of  acute  suffering  by  :  nay.  she  had  sometimes  secretly  followed 
on  Miss  Hilary's  countenance  was  such  that  Town  a  whole  street  some  figure  which,  in  its 
she  determined  to  sob  no  more.  She  felt  that,  light  jaunty  stepand  long  fashionably-cut  hair, 
for  some  reason  or  other,  the  thing  was  inev-  reminded  her  of  Ascott. 
itable;  that  she   must  take  up   her   burden,      Otherwise  they  were  not  unhappy,  she  and 


£SD  now 

her 


CHAPTER  Xtll. 

Hilarv  for  a  timt 


I  leave  Miss 


a6  her  mistress  had  done,  even  though  it 
were  the  last  grief  of  all — leaving  that  beloved 
mistress. 


her  dearest  sister.  Poor  as  they  were,  they 
were  together,  and  their  poverty  had  no  sting. 
They  knew  exactly  how  much  they  would  .re 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


87 


ceive  monthly,  and  how  much  they  ought  to 
spend.  Though  obliged  to  calculate  every 
penny,  still  their  income  and  expenses  were 
alike  certain  ;  there  was  no  anxiety  about 
money  matters,  which  of  ifeeli  was  an  inde- 
scribable relief.  Also  there  was  that  best 
blessing — peace  at  home.  Never  in  all  her 
days  had  Johanna  known  such  an  easy  life; 
Hitting  quietly  in  her  parlor  while  Hilary  was 
engaged  in  the  shop  below;  descending  to 
dinner,  where  she  took  the  head  of  the  table, 
and  the  young  people  soon  learned  to  treat 
hei  with  great  respect  and  even  affection; 
then  waiting  lor  the  happy  tea  in  their  own 
room,  and  the  walk  afterward,  in  Richmond 
.Park  or  along  the  Thames  banks  toward 
Twickenham.  Perhaps  it  was  partly  from  the 
contrast  to  that  weary  year  in  London,  but 
never,  in  any  spring,  had  the  air  seemed  so 
balmy,  or  the  trees  so  green.  They  brought 
back  to  Hilary's  face  the  youthful  bloom  which 
she  had  begun  to  lose  ;  and,  in  degree,  her 
youthful  brightness,  which  had  also  become 
slightly  overclouded.  Again  she  laughed  and 
made  her  little  domestic  jokes,  and  regained 
her  pretty  ways  of  putting  things,  so  that  every 
thing  always  appeared  to  have  a  cheerful,  and 
comical,  side. 

Also — for  while  we  are  made  as  we  are,  with 
capacity  for  happiness,  and  especially  the 
happiness  of  love,  it  is  sure  to  be  thus — she 
had  a  little  private  sunbeam  in  her  own  heart, 
which  brightened  outside  things.  After  that 
sad  letter  from  India  which  came  on  Selina'.- 
wedding  day,  every  succeeding  one  grew  more 
cheerful,  more  demonstrative,  nay,  even  affec- 
tionate; though  still  with  that  queer  Scotch 
pride  of  his,  that  .would  ask  for  nothing  till  it 
could  ask  and  have  every  thing,  and  give 
every  thing  in  return — the  letters  were  all  ad- 
dressed to  Johanna. 

"  What  an  advantage  it  is  to  be  an  old  wo- 
man !"  Miss  Leaf  would  so tne times  say,  mis- 
chievously, when  she  received  them*  But 
more  often  she  said  nothing,  wailing  in  peace 
for  events  to  develop  themselves.  She  did  not 
think  much  about,  herself,  and'  had  no  mean 
jealousy  over  her  child  :  she  knew  that  a  right- 
eous and  holy  love  only  makes  all  natural  af- 
fections more  sacred  and  more  dear. 

And  Hilary?  She  held  her  head  higher 
and  prouder;  and  the  spring  trees  looked 
greener,  and  the  river  ran  brighter  in  the  sun- 
shine. Ah,  Heaven  pity  us  all !  it  is  a  good 
thing  to  have  love  in  one's  life:  it  is  a 
thing,  if  only  for  a  time,  :o  beactually  h 
Nol  merely  contented,  but  happy  I 

And  so  I  will  leave  her.  this  little  woman  ; 
and  nobody  need  mourn  over  her  becau- 
■irking  too  hard,  or  pity  her  because  < 
obliged  to  work;  has  to  wear  common  clothes, 
and  live  in  narrow  rooms,  and  pass  on  her 
poor  weary  feet  the  grand  carriages  of  the 
Richmond  gentry,  who  are  not  a  bit  more  well- 


born or  well-educated**tban  she  ;  who  never 
take  the  least  notice  of  her,  except  sometimes 
to  peer  curious  at  the  desk  where  she  sits  in 
the  shop-corner,  and  wonder  who  "that  young 
person  with  the  rather  pretty  curls  "  can  be. 
No  matter,  she  is  happy. 

How  much  happiness  was  there  in  the  large 
house  at  .Russell  Square? 

The  Misses  Leaf  could  not  tell ;  their  sister 
never  gave  them  an  opportunity  of  judging. 

™  My  son's  my  son  till  he  gets  him  a  wife, 
But  my  daughter's  my  daughter  all  her  life." 

And  so,  most  frequently,  is  "  my  sister."  But 
not  in  this  case.  It  could  not  be  ;  they  never 
expected  it  would. 

When  on  here  rare  visits  to  town  Hilary 
called  at  Russell  Square  she  always  found 
Mrs  Ascott  handsomely  dressed,  dignified,  and 
gracious.  Not  in  the  slightest  degree  uncivil 
or  unsisterly,  but  gracious — perhaps  a  thought 
too  gracious.  Most  condescendingly  anxious 
that  she  should  stay  to  luncheon,  and  eat  and 
drink  the  best  the  house  afforded,  but  never 
by  any  chance  inviting  her  to  stay  to  dinner. 
|  Consequently,  as  Mr.  Ascott  was  always  ab- 
sent in  the  city  until  dinner,  Hilary  did  not 
see  him  for  months  together,  and  her  brother- 
in-law  was,  she  declared,  no  more  to  her  than 
any  other  man  upon  'Change,  or  the  man  in 
the  moon,  or  the  Great  Mogul. 

His  wife  spoke  little  about  him.     After  a 

few  faint,  formal  questions   concerning  Rich 

mond  affairs,  somehow   her   conversation  al- 

j ways  recurred  to   her  own:  the  dinners  shu 

;had  been  at,  those  she  was  going  to  give  ;  hex 

I carriages,  clothes,  jewelry,  and    so  on.     She 

jwas  altogether  a  very  great  lady,  and  Hilary, 

as  she  avouched   laughingly — it  was,   in  this 

case,  better  to  laugh    than  to  grieve — felt  an 

exceedingly  small  person  beside  her. 

Nevertheless  Mrs,  Ascott  showed  nounkind- 
ness — nay,  among  the  various  changes  that 
matrimony  had  produoed  in  her,  her  temper 
appeared  rather  to  have  improved  than  other- 
wise; there  was  now  seldom  any  trace  of  that 
touchy  sharpness  which  used  to  be  called 
"  poor  Seiina's  way."  And  yet  Hilary  never 
quitted  the  house  without  saving  to  herself, 
with  a  sigh,  tlie  old  phrase,  "Poor  Sciin 

Thus,  in  the  inevitable  consequences  ol 
things,  her  visits  to  LiusseJJ  Square  became 
(fewer  and  fewer  :  she  kept  them  up  as  a  duty, 
not  exacting  any  return,  for  she  felt  that  was 
impossible,  though  still  keeping  up  the  ghost- 
ly shadow  of  sisterly  intimacy.  Nevertheless 
Ishe  knew  well  it  was  leu  a  shadow;  that  the 
'only  face  that  looked  honest,  glad  welcome,  or 


that  she  was  hone.siiy  gla  in  herbn  th- 

er-in-law's  In 
E'iizabeth  Hand. 


ally 

/as 


er-in-law's  house  was   the  under   house-maid, 


Contrary   to  all  expectations,  Mrs.    Ascott 
had  consented  to   take  Elizabeth  into  her  ser- 
vice.    With  many  stipulations  and  warnings 
;  never  to  presume  on  past  relations,  never  even 


TO 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


to  mention  Stowbury,  on  pain  of  instant  die-! made  as  email  as  possible,  and  escaped  when- 
missal — still,  she  did  take  her,  and  Elizabeth  ever  they  could. 

staid.  At  every  one  of  Miss  Hilary's  visits, !  If  this  be  an  exaggerated  picture  of  a  state 
lying  in  wait  in  the  bed  chamber,  or  on  thejof  things  perhaps  in  degree  inevitable — and 
staircase,  or  creeping  up  at  the  last  minute  to  yet  it  should  not  be,  for  it  is   the  source  of  in- 


open  the   ball   door,  was   6ure   to  appear  the 
familiar  face,  beaming  all  over.     Little  con 


calculable  evil,  this  dividing  of  a  house  against 
itself — if  I  have  in   any  way  said  what  is  not 


versation  passed  between  them — Mrs.  Ascott  true,  I   would  that  some  intelligent  "  voice 


evidently  disliked  it ;  still  Elizabeth  looked 
well  and  happy,  and  when  Miss  Hilary  told 
her  so  she  always  silently  smiled 

But  this  story  must  tell  the  whole  truth 
which  lay  beneath  that  fond  acquiescing  smile 

Elizabeth  was  certainly  in  good  health,  be- 
ing well  fed,  well  housed,  and  leading  on  the 
whole  an  easy  life ;  happy,  too,  when  she  look- 
ed at  Mi6S  Hilary.  But  her  migration  from 
Mrs.  Jones's  lodgings  to  this  grand  mansion 
had  not  been  altogether  the  translation  from 
Purgatory  to  Paradise  that  some  would  have 
supposed. 

The  author  ot  this  simple  story  having — 
unfortunately  for  it — neveT  been  in  domestic 
service,  especially  in  the  great  houses  of  Lon- 
don, does  not  pretend  to  describe  the  ins  and 
outs  of  their  'high  life  below  stairs;"  to  re- 
peat kitchen  conversations,  to  paint  the  hu- 
mors of  the  servants'  hall — the  butler  and 
housekeeper  getting  tipsy  together,  the  cook 
courting  the  policeman,  and  the  footman  mak- 
ing love  successively  to  every  house-maid  and 
ladys'-maid.  Some  writers  have  depicted  all 
this,  whether  faithfully  or  not  they  know  best; 
but  the  present  writer  declines  to  attempt  any 
thing  of  the  kind.  Her  business  is  solely  w^th 
one  domestic,  the  country  girl  who  came  un- 


amending what 


from  the  kitchen  "  would  rise  up  and  tell  us 
what  is  true,  and  whether  it  be  possible  on 
eitheir  side  to  find  means  oi 
so  sorely  needs  reformation. 

Elizabeth  sometimes  wanted  Tom  Cliffe  to 
do  this — to  "write  a  book,"  which  he,  eager 
young  malcontent,  was  always  threatening  to 
do,  upon  the  evils  of  society,  and  especially 
the  tyranny  of  the  upper  classes.  Tom  Cliffe 
was  the  only  person  to  whom  she  imparted 
her  troubles  and  perplexities  :  how  different 
her  life  was  from  that  she  had  been  used  to; 
how  among  her  fellow-servants  there  wa6  not 
one  who  did  not  seem  to  think  and  act  in  a 
manner  totally  opposed  to  every  thing  she  had 
learned  from  Miss  Hilary.  How  consequent- 
ly she  herself  was  teased,  bullied,  threatened, 
or  at  best  "  sent  to  Coventry,"  from  morning 
till  night. 

"  I  am  quite  alone,  Tom — 1  am,  indeed," 
said  she,  almost  crying,  the  first  Sunday  night 
when  she  met  him  accidentally  in  going  to 
church,  and,  in  her  dreary  state  of  mind,  was 
exceedingly  glad  to  see  him.  He  consoled  her, 
and  even  went  to  church  with  her,  half  prom- 
ising to  do  the  same  next  Sunday,  and  calling 
her  "  a  good  little  Christian,  who  alniost  in- 
clined him  to  be  a  Christian  too." 

And  so,  with  the  vague  feeling  that  she  was 


expectedly  into  this  new  world  of  London  doing  him  good  and  keeping  him  out  of  harm 
servant-life— a  world  essentially  its  own,  and!_tnat  lad  who  had  so  much  that  \%as  kindlv 
a  life  of  which  the  upper  classes  are  as  igno-jan)j  nice  about  him— Elizabeth  consented,  not 
rant  as  they  are  of  what  goes  on  in  Madagascar|exactly  to  an  appointment,  but  she  told  him 
and  Otaheite.  what  were  her  "  Sundays  out."  ami  the  church 

Thi6  fact  was  the  ftrst  which  struck  the  un-;ehe  usually  attended,  if  he^liked  to   take  the 
sophisticated  Elizabeth.     She,  who  had  beenlchance  of  her  being  there, 
brought  up  in  a  sort  of  feudal  relationship  to!     Alack!  she  had  so  few  pleasures;  she  so 


her  dear  mistresses,  was  astonished  to  find  the 
domestics  of  Kussell  Square  banded  together 
into  a  community  which,  in  spite  of  their  per- 
sonal bickerings  and  jealousies,  ended  in  alli- 
ance offensive  and  defensive  against  the  supe- 
rior powers,  wh»m  they  looked  upon  as  their 
ntaural  enemies.  Invisible  enemies,  certainly; 
for  "master"  they  hardly  ever  saw;  and, 
excepting  the  ladye 
ignorant  of  "  missis.' 

the  middle  link  between  the  two  estates— the  fiees,  plainness,  and  stupidity 
person  with  whom  all   business  was  transact 
ed,  and  to  whom    all  complaints   had  to   be 


seldom  got  even  a  breath  of  outside  air — it 
was  not  thought  necessary  for  servants.  The 
only  hour  she  was  allowed  out  was  the  church- 
going  on  alternate  Sunday  evenings.  How 
pleasant  it  was  to  creep  out  then,  and  see  Tom 
waiting  for  her  under  the  opposite  trees,  dress- 
ed so  smart  and  gentlemanlike,  looking  so 
handsome  and  so  glad  to  see  her — her,  the 
maid,  were  mostly  as' poor  countrified  Elizabeth,  who  was  t^ttizzeH 
The  housekeeper  was  incessantly  by  her  fellow-servants  on  her  o»M- 


Tom  did  not  seem  to   think  her  stupid,  for 
he  talked  to  her  of  all    his  doings  and  plan- 
made.     Beyond  being  sometimes  talked  over,|nings,  vague  and  wild  as  those  of  the  young 

tailbr  in  "  Alton  Locke,"  yet  with  a  ramau- 
tic  energy  about  them  that  strongly  interested 
his  companion  ;  and  he  read  her  his  poetry, 
and  addresseda  few  lines  to  herself,  beginning, 

';  Dearest  and  best,  my  long  familiar  friend  ;'' 


generally  in  a  quizzical,  depreciatory,  or  con- 
demnatory way,  the  heads  of  the  establish- 
ment were  no  more  to  their  domestics  than 
the  people  who  paid  wages,  and  exacted  in 
teturn  certain  duties,  which   most  of  them 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


89 


which  was  rather  a  poetical  exaggeration,  But  to  Elizabeth  the  whole  thing  was  new, 
since  he  hud  altogether  forgotten  her  in  the  wonderful ;  a  bliss  so  far  beyond  any  thing 
interval  of  their  separation  But  she  neverthat  had  ever  befallen  her  simple  life,  and  so 
guessed  this;  and  so  they  both  clung  to  the; utterly  unexpected  therein,  that  when  she 
early  tie,  making  il  out  to.be  ten  times  strong-jwent  to  her  bed  that  night  she  cried  like  a 
er  than  it  reallj  was.  as  people  do  who  are  child  over  the  happiness  of  Tom's  loving  her, 
glad  of  any  excuse  for  being  fond  ot  one  and  her  exceeding  unworthiness  of  the  same, 
another.  ,  Then  difficulties  arose  in  her  mind.     "  No 

Tom   reallj  tting  fond  of  Elizabeth,  followers  allowed,"  was  one  of  the  strict  laws 

She  touched  the  higher  half  ol  his  nature — of  the  Russell  Square  dynasty.  Like  many 
the  spiritual  and  imaginative  half.  That  he  another  law  of  that  and  of  much  higher  dy- 
had  it,  though  only  a  working-man.  and  she  nasties  it  was  only  made  to  be  broken  ;  for 
too,  though  only  a  domestic  servant,  was  most' stray  sweet-hearts  were  continually  climbing 
true:  probably  many  more  of  their  class  hate  down  area  railings,  or  over  garden  walls,  or 
ir  (ban  we  ore  at  all  aware  of.  Therefore,  hiding  themselves  behind  kitchen  doors.  Nay, 
these  two  being  special  individuals,  were  at-  to  such  an  extent  was  the  system  carried  out, 
iracted  by  each  other;  she  by  him,  because  each  servant  being,  from  self-interest,  a  safe 
he  whs  clever,  and  he  by  her,  because  she  was  co-conspirator,  that  very  often  when  Mr,  and 
30  good.  For  he  had  an  ideal,' poor  Tom  Mrs.  Ascott  went  out  to  dinner,  and  the  old 
Cliffe  !  and  though  it  had  been  smothered  and  housekeeper  retired  to  bed,  there  were  regular 
laid  to  sleep  by  a  not  too  regular  life,  it  woke  symposia  held  below  stairs — nice  little  supper- 
up  again  under  the  kind,  sincere  eyes  of  this  parties,  where  all  the  viands  in  the  pantry 
plain,  simple-minded,  honest  Elizabeth  Hand  and  the  wines  iu  the  cellar  were  freely  used  ; 

He  kueu  sh,  was  plain,  and  so. old-fashion-  where  every  domestic  had  his  or  her  "young 
ed  iu  her  dress,  thai  Tom,  who  was  particular 'man  "  or  "young  woman,"  and  the  goings-on, 
about  such  things,  did  not  always  like  walk-  though  not  actually  discreditable,  were  of  the 
ing  with  her:  but,  she  was  so  interesting  and  most  lively  kind. 

true:  she  sympathized  with  him  so  warmly ;  I  To  be  cognizant  of  these,  and  yet  to  feel 
fie  found  her  >o  uufailingly  and  unvaryingly  that,  as  there  was  no  actual  wickedness  going 
good  to  him  through  all  the  littic  humors  andjon,  she  was  not  justified  in  "blabbing,"  was 
pe:>  that  almosi   always  accompany  a  severe  and  peipetual  trial  to  Elizabetb.     To 

large  brain,  a  nervous  temperament,  and  join  them,  or  bring  Tom  among  them  as  her 
delicate  health.     Her  quietness  soothed  him,f"young  man,"  was  impossible. 

ir  strength  of  character  supported  him;  he;     "  No,  Tom,"  she  said,  when'he  begged  hard 
ied  on  her,  and  ruled  over  her.         to  come  in  one  evening — for  it  was  raining 
to  Elizabeth's  feeliugs  toward  Tom,  theylfast,  and  he  had  a  bad  cough — "No,  Tom,  1 
will  hardly  bear  analyzing  :   pi  hardly  [can't  let  you.     If  other  folks  break  the  laws 

any  strong  emotion  will,  especial!;  of  '.he  house,  I  won't — you  must  go.     I  can 

not  sudden  but  progressive.  She  admired  only  meet  you  out  of  doofe." 
him  extremely,  and  yet  she  was  half  sorry  for]  And  yet  to  do  this  surreptitiously,  just  as  if 
him.  Some  things  in  him  she  did  not  at  alltahe  were  ashamed  of  him,  or  as  if  there  were 
like,  and  tried  heartily  to  amend.  II  is  ner  something  wrong  in  their  being  foud  of  one 
vous  fancies,  irritations,  and  vagaries  she  was  another,  jarred  upon  Elizabeth's  honest  na- 
excK'dingiy  tender  over;  she  looked  up  to  ture.  She  did  not  want  to  make  a  show  of 
him.  and  yet  took  (are  of  him:  this  thought  him,  especially  to  her  fellow-servant* :  she 
ot  bim,  and  anxiety  over  him,  became  by  de- had  the  true  "woman's  instinct  of  liking  to 
grees  the  habit  of  her  life.  1'eople  love  in  so, keep  her  treasures  all  to  herself;  but  she  had 
many  different  v.  .id  perhaps  that  was  also  her  sex's  natural  yearning  tor  sympathy 

the  natural  way  in  which  a  woman  like  Eliz-.in   the  great   event  of  a  woman's  life.     She 
.abeth  would  love,  or  creep  into  love  withourfwould    have   liked   to   have   somebody   unto 
knowing  it,  which  is  either  the  safest   or  the  whom  she  could  say,  "Tom  has  asked  me  to 
-addest  form  which  the.  passion  can  assume,  marry  him,"  and   who  would  have  answered 

Thus  things  went  on,  'ill  one  dark,  rainy 'cordially.  "  It's  all  right;  heie  a  good,  fellow: 
Sum  ight,  walking   round  and  ronrid  the  you  are  sure  *.<    be  happy." 

•  ■-       Not    thai  sin     dvubud    thio ;  but  it    would 

ieeling-.  At  first,  in  somewhat  high  dowyihave  been  an  additional  comfort  lo  have  a 
and  poetical  phrases. then  melting  into  tjie  one,  mother's  blessing,  or  a  sister's,  or  even  a 
eternally  old  and  eternally  new,  "Do  vqu  love  friend's,  .upon  this  strange  and  sweet  emotion 
me?"  followed  by  a  long,  long  kiss,' given; which  had  come  into  her  life.  So  long  as  il 
under  shelter  of  the  umbrella, and  in  mortal;  .va-  thus  kept  secret  there  seemed  a  certain 
fear  of  the  approaching  policeman  ;  who,  how-' :  ompleteness  and  unsanctity  about  even 
ever,  never  saw  them,  or  saw  them  only  a     ...  ir  happy  love. 

"pair  of  sweethearts" — too  common  an  oc-j  Tom  did  not  comprehend  this  at  all.  He 
currence  on  his  beat  to  excite  any  attention. (only   laughed  at  her  for  feeling  so  "nesh'' 


90 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


(that  means  tender,  sensitive— but  the  word' she,  with  great  Belt  denial,  insisted  on  getting 
is  almost  unexplainable  to  other  than  Stov-'rid  of  Tom  for  :  me.  She  thought  Miss 
bury  ears)  on  the  subject.  He  liked  the  ro-!Hilary  might  ry»i  *mite  like  Tom's  knowing 
rnance  and  excitement  of  secret  courtship—  where  she  lived,  or  what  her  occupation  was, 
men  often  do  :  rarelv  women,  unless  there  isilest  he  might  gossip  about  it  to  Stowburv  peo- 
something  in  them  not  quite  right,  not  entire-  pie;  so  she  determined  to  pay  her  visit   by 


lv  womanly 
But  Tom  was  very  considerate,  and  though 


herself,  and  appointed  to  meet  him  at  a 
tain  hour  ©n  Kichmond  Bridge,  over  which 
he  called  it  "silly,"  and  took  a  little  fit  °of  bridge  she  watched  him  march  sulkily,  not 
crossness  on  the  occasion,  he  allowed  Eliza-!  without  a  natural  pleasure  that  he  should  be 
beth  to  write  to  mother  about  him,  and  con-  so  much  vexed  at  losing  her  company  tor 
sented  that  on  her  nextholidav  she  should  go! hour  or  two.  But  she  knew  lie  would  soon 
to  Richmond,! in  order  to  speak  to  Miss  Hila-  come  to  himself— as  he  did,  before  he  had 
ry  on  the  same  subject,  and  ask  her  also  to  been  half  a  mile  on  the  road  to  Hampton 
write  to  Mrs.  Hand,  stating  how  stood  and  Court,  meeting,  a  young  fellow  he  knew,  and 
clever  Tom  was,  and  how  exceedingly  happy 'going  with  him  over  that  grand  old  palace, 
was  Tom's  Elizabeth.  which  furnished  them  with  a  subject  at  their 

"  And  won't  vou  come  and  fetch  me,  Tom  V  next  debating  society  I  hey  both  came 

asked  she,  shyly.  "I  am  sure  Miss  Hilary  out  very  strong  on  the  question  of  hypocriti- 
would  not  object,  nor  Miss  Leaf  neither."     "   cal  priests  and  obnoxious  kings,  with  especial 

Tom  protested  he  did  not  care  two  straws  reference  to  Henry  \  III.  and  Cardinal  \\  ol- 
whether  they  objected  or  not ;  he  was  a  man  sey. 

of  twenty,  in  a  good  trade— he  had  lately  Meanwhile  Elizabeth  went  in  search  of  the 
"one  back  to  the  printing,  and  being  a  clever  little  shop— which  nobody  need  expect  to  find 
workman,  earned  capital  wages.  He  had  a  at  Richmond  now— bearing  the  well-known 
right  to'choose  whom  he  liked,  and  marry  name  "Janet  Bal judder. "  Entering  it.  tor 
when  he  pleased.  If  Elizabeth  didn't  care  there  was  no  private  door,  she  saw,  in  the  far 
for  him,  she  might  leave  him  alone.  ner  above  the  curtained  desk,  the  pretty 

-  Oh,  Tom  !"  was  all  she  answered,  with  a  curls  of  her  dear  Miss  Hilary, 
strange  gentleness  that  no  one  could  have  be-;     Elizabeth  had  long  known  that  her  mistr. 
lieved  would  ever  have  come  into  the  manner ."  kept  a  shop,"  and  with  the  notions  ot  gen- 
of  South  Sea  Islander.     And  quitting  the  sub-  tilitv  which  are  just  as  rife  in  her  class  as  in 
ject  then,  she  afterward  persuaded  him,  and  any    other,  had   mourned   bitterly  over   this 
not  for  the  first  time,  into  consenting  to  what  fact.     But  when  she  saw  how  fresh  and  web 
she  thought  right.     There  is  something  rather  the  young  lady  looked,  how  busily  and  cheer- 
touching  in  a  servant's  holiday.     It  comes  so  fully, she  seemd  to  work  with  her  great  books 
seldom.     She  must  count  on  it  for  so  long  be-  before  her,  and  with  what  a  compose 
forehand,  and  remember  it  for  so  long  after-jand  dignity  she  came  forward  when  asked  for, 
ward.     This. present  writer  owns  to  a  strong  Elizabeth   secretly   confessed   that   not    ev6n 
sympathy*  with   the   holiday-makers  on   the  keeping  a  shdp  had  made  or  could  make  the 
"■rand  gala-days  or"  the  English  calendar.     It; smallest  difference  in  Miss  Hilary, 
fs  a  pleasure  to"  watch  the  innumerable  grOu  She  herself  was  much  moi 


of  fa  mil 

lands, 


ilv   folk,  little   children,    and  prentice!     "  Why,    Elizabeth,   I  should    hardly  h. 

known  you!"  was  the  involuntary  exclama- 

-''firesstfd  in  all  thoir  best,  tiOD  of  her  late  mistress. 

To  walk  abroad  with  Sally."  gh4  certainly  did  look  sen-  nice  :  not  smart 

And  the  various  "Sallys"  and  their  cOrrtee tor  her  sober  taste  preferred  quiet  colore  — 

ponding  swain-  can  hardly  feel  more  regret  but  excessively  neat  and  well-dressed.  In  her 
than  she  when  it  happens"to  be  wet  weather  new  gown  of  gray  "cobnrg,"  her  one  hand- 
on  Easter  week  or  at  Whitsuntide.  some  shawl,  which  had  been  honored  several 
Whit-Mondav,  the  day  wlieu  Tom  escaped  times  by  Miss  Hilary's  wearing,  her  white 
from  the  printing-office,  and  Elizabeth  gotlstfaw  bonnet  and  white  ribbons.  Underlie 
leave  of  absence  for  six  hours,  was  as  glorious  which  the  smooth  black  hair  and  soft  eyes 
a  June  dav  as  well  could  be.  As  the  two  showed  to  great  advantage,  she  appeared,  not 
young  people  perched  themselves  on  the  jike  a  lady"— a  servant  can  seldom  do  that 
of  the  Richmond  omnibus,  and  .-rove  tin-  her  dress  b  i  '  so  fine— but  like  a  tho- 
fveiisington,  Hammersmitlf,  Turnham  Green, 'roughly're  pectable,  intelligent,  and  pleasant- 
and  over  Kew    Bridge — Tom  pointing  out  all  laced  young  woman. 

the  places,  and  giving  much  curious  informa-      And  her  '  rid  went  so  fast,  she 

tion    about   them— Elizabeth    thought   there  was  so  nervous  an i  i  beamingly  happy, 

never  was  a  more  beautiful  country,  or  a  i  more  that  Miss  Hilary   soon  suspected   there  v 
lovely  summer  day:  she  was.  she  truly  said,  more   in    this    visit    than    at    first    appea 
"a-  hapuy  as  a  Queen."  Knowing  that  with  Elizabeth's^rea*  ehyn 

Xcverthless,    when    the  omnibus   propped,  the  mystery  would  never  come  out  in  public. 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


91 


om 

•serve 


she  took  an  opportunity  of  asking  her  to  helpT  have  only  to  give  my  good  wishes.  Jf  T 
her  in  the  bedroom,  aad  there,  with  the  fold-  Cliffe  deserves  you,  I  aui  sure  ^you  <*(ese 
ing-doort-  safely   .-liui.  red  the   whole  him,  and  I  should  like  to  tell  him  so." 

ret.  "Should  you,  Miss  Hilary?"  and  with   a 

Mi^-  Hilary  was",  a  good  deal  surprised  at  visible  brightening  up  Elizabeth  betrayed 
first.  Sli'e  had  never  though)  of  Elizabeth  as  'loin's  whereabouts,  and  her  little  conspiracy 
likely  to  <?et  married  at  all — and  to  Tom  to  bring  him  here,  and  her  hesitation  lest  it 
Cliffe.  'might  be  "intruding." 

••  Why,  isn't  he  a  mere  boy  ;  ever  so  much!  "  Not  at  all.  Tell  him  to  come  at  once.  I 
vountrer"  than  you* are  *?"  -     am  not  like  my  sister  ;  we.  always  allow  '  fol- 

■■  Three  years."  lowers.'     1  think  a  mistress  stands  in  the  re- 

•' That  is'a  pity— a  great  pity  :  women  grow  dat  ion  of  a  parent,  for  the  time  being:  and 
old  so  much  faster  than  men.'"'  that  can  not  be  a  light  or  good  love  which  is 

"  I  know  that,"  said  Elizabeth,  somewhat  concealed  from  her,  as  if  it  were  a  thing  to  be 
sorrowfully.  ashamed  of." 

"  Besides,  did  you  not  tell  me  he  was  very  "  1  think  so  too.  And  I'm  not  a  bit  asham- 
handsome  and  clever?"  ed  of  Tom,  nor  he  of  me,"  said  Elizabelh,  so 

"Yes:  and  I'm  neither  the  one  nor  the  energetically  that  Miss  Hilary  smiled, 
other.  I  havp  thought  all  that  over  too,  many!  "Very  well;  take  him  to  have  his  tea  in 
a  time:  indeed  I  have.  Miss  Hilary.  But  the  kitchen,  and  then  bring  him  upstairs  to 
Tom  likes  me— or  fancies  he  does.  TJo  you  speak  to'my  sister  and  me." 
think" — and  the  intense  humility  which  true  At  thfft  interview,  which  of  couise  was 
love  always  has,  struck  into  Miss  Hilary's  rather  trying,  Tom  acquitted  himself  to  every 
own  conscious  heart  a  conviction  of  how  very  body's  satisfaction.  He  was  manly,  modest, 
true  this  poor  girl's  love  must  be.  "  Do  you  self-possessed:  did  not  say  much — his  usual 
think  he  is  mistaken  ?  that  his  liking  me — I  talkativeness  being  restrained  by  the  circum- 
mean  in  that  sort  of  way — is  quite  impossi-1  stances  of  the  case,  and  the  great  impression 
ble?"  made  upon  him  by  Miss  Hilary,  who,  he  af- 

"Xo,  indeed,  and  1  never  said  it:  never  terward  admitted  to  Elizabtth,  "  was  a  real 
thought  it.''  was  the  earnest  reply.  "But  angel,  and  he  should  write  a  poem  upon  her.'' 
consider:  three  3  ears  younger  than  yourself  ;  But  the  little  he  did  say  gave  the  ladies  a  very 
handsomer  and  cleverer  than  you  are — "  good  impression  of  the  intelligence  and  even 

Miss  Hilary  stopped :  it  seemed  so  cruel  to  refinement  of  Elizabeth's  sweet-heart.  And 
say  such  things,  and  yet  she  felt  bound  to  say  though  they  were  sorry  to  see  him  look  so 
them.  She  knew  her  former  "bower-maiden"  delicate,  still  there  was  a  something  better 
well  enough  to  be  convinced  that  if  EIizabeth|than  handsomeness  in  his  handsome  iace. 
were  not  happy  in 
worse    than   unhappy 


she  would    be 
might    grow  actually 
bail .  — 

•'  lie  loves  you  now  ;   von  are  sure  of  that; 
but  are  you  sure  that  he  is  a  thoroughly  stable 
and   reliable  character?     Do 
will  love  von  always?" 


which  made  them  not  altogether  surprised  at 
Elizabeth's  being  so  fond  of  him. 

As  she  watched  the  young  couple  down 
Richmond  Street,  in  the  soft  summer  twilight 
— Elizabeth  taking  Tom's  arm,  and  Tom  draw- 
on  I  relieve  he  ing  up  his  stooping  figure  to  its  utmost  extent, 
both  a  little  ill-matched  in  height  as  thev  were 


•■  1  can't  tell.     Perhaps — if  1  deserved  it,"  in  some  other  things,  but   walking   with  that 
said  poor  Elizabeth.  air  of  perfect  confidence  and  pei feet  con tented- 

And,  looking  at  the  downcast  eyes,  at  the  ness  in  each  other  which  always  betrays,  to  a 
thorough    womanly    sweetness    and    tender-  quick   eye,  those  who  have  agreed  to  walk 
which  suffused  the  whole  face,  Hilary's  through   the    world    together — Miss    Hilary 
doubts  began  to  melt  away.  She  thought  how  turned  from  the  window  and  sighed, 
sometimes  men,  captivated  by  inward  rather 
than  outward  graces,  have  fallen  in  love  with  _______ 

plain  women,  or  women  older  than  the 
selves,  and  actually  kept  to  their  attachment 
through  lite,  with  a  fidelity  rare  as  beautiful. 
Perhaps  this  young  fellow,  who  seemed  by  all  Following  Miss  Hilary's  earnest  advice 
accounts  superior  to  his  class — having  had;that  every  thing  should  be  fair  and  open, 
the  sense  to  choose  that  pearl  in  an  oyster-  Elizabeth,  on  the  very  next  day  after  that 
shell,  Elizabeth  Hand — might  also  have  thejhappy  Whit-Monday,  mustered  up  her  cour- 
sense  so  appreciate  her,  and  go  on  loving  her  age,  asked  permission  to  speak  to  her  mistress, 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


to  the  end  of  his  days,  Anyhow,  he  loved 
her  now,  and  she  loved  him  ;  and  it  was  use- 
less reasoning  any  more  about  it. 

Come,    Elizabeth,"    cried    her   mistress, 


and  told  her  she  was  goingyto  be  married  to 
Tom  Cliffe:  not  immediately,  but   in  a  year's 
time  or  so,  if  all  went  well. 
Mrs.  Ascott  replied  sharply  that  it  was  no 


cheerfully,  "  I  have  said  all  my  say,  and  nowlaffair  of  hers,  and  she  could  dot  be  troubled 


92 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


about  it.  For  her  part  she  thought,  if  servants!  which  "  the  rows  up  stairs"  became  a  favor- 
knew  theirnown  advantages,  they  would  keepiite  joke  in  the  servants'  hall, 
a  good  place  when  they  had  it,  and  never  get;  But  still  Mr.  Ascott  went  out  daily  after 
■  married  at  all.  And  then,  saying  she  had  breakfast,  and  came  home  to  dinner  ;  and 
heard  a  good  character  of  her  from  the  house-  Mrs.  Ascott  spent  the  morning  in  her  private 
keeper,  she  offered  Elizabeth  the  place  of  sitting  room,  or  "boudoir,"  as  she  called  it; 
upper  house-maid,  a  young  girl,  a  protegee  of.  lunched,  and  drove  out  in  her  handsome  car- 
the  housekeeper's,  being  substituted  in  hers,    riage,  with   her  footman  behind  ;  dressed  ele- 

"  And  when  you  have  sixteen  pounds  a  year,  :  gantry  for  dinner,  and  presided  at  her  own 
and  somebody  to  do  all  your  hard  work  for  table  with  an  air  of  magnificent  satisfaction  in 
you,  I  dare  say  you'll  think  better  of  it,  and  all  things.  She  had  perfectly  accommodated 
not  be  so  foolish  as  to  go  and  get  married.''     'herself  to  her  new  position  ;  and  if  under  her 

But  Elizabeth  had  her  own  private  opinion jsatins  and  laces  beat  a  solitary,  dissatisfied, 
on  that  matter.  She  was  but  a  woman,  poor  or  aching  heart,  it  was  nobody's  businpss  but 
thing!  and  two  tiny  rooms  of  her  own.  with  her  own.  At  least,  she  kept  up  the  splendid 
Tom  to  care  for  and  look  after,  seemed  a  far  sham  with  a  most  creditable  persistency. 
happier  home  than  that  great  house,  where  But  all  sharps  are  dangerous  things.  Be 
she  had  not  only  her  own  work  to  do,  but  the  the  surface  ever  so  smooth  and  green,  it  will 
responsibility  of  teaching  and  taking  charge  ot  crack  sometimes,  and  a  faint  wreath  of  smoke 
that  careless,  stupid,  pretty  Esther,  who  had  betray  the  inward  volcano.  The  like  had 
all  the  forwardness,  untidiness,  und  unconeci-  happened  once  or  twice,  as  on  thecfay  when 
entipusneas  of  a  regular  London  maid-servant,  the  men-servants  were  so  intensely  amused, 
and  was  a  sore  trial  to  the  staid,  steady  Eliza-' Also  Elizabeth,  when  putting  in  order  her 
beth.  mistress's  bedroom,  which  was  about  the  hour 

_  Tom  consoled  her.  in  his  careless  but  aft'ec-  ^r-  A-Scott  left  for  the  city,  had  several  times 
tionate  way  :  and  another  silent  consolation !see?  ^T8-  Ascoti  come  in  there  suddenly. 
was  the  'little  bits  of  things,"  bought  out  6flwnite  an^  trembling.  Once,  so  agitated  was 
her  additional  v^iges,  which  she  oegan  to  put  s*)e>  tuat  Elizabeth  had  brought  her  a  glass  of 


by  in  her  box— sticks  and  straws  for   th 


e  new 


water;  and  instead  of  being  angry  or  treating 


sweet  nest  that  was  a-buildinc  :  a  metal  tea-  ner  w'tn  t,ne  distant  dignity  which  she  had 
pot,  two  neat  glass  salt-cellars,  and,  awful  ex- /ilways  kept  up,  her  mistress  had  said,  almost 
travagance  !— two  real  second-hand  silver  *n  tne  °'d  Stowbury  tone,  "  Thank  you,  Eliz- 
spoons— Tom  did  so  like  having  things  nice  abeth."  ' 

about  him!  These  purchases,  picked^up  at  However.  Elizabeth  had  the  wisdom  to  take 
stray  times,  were  solid,  substautial  and  useful:  u0  "Otice,  but  to  slip  from  the  room,  and  keep 
domestic  rather  than  personal :  and  all  with  lier  own  counsel. 

a  view  to  Tom  rather  than  herself.  She  hid  At  last  one  day  the  smouldering  domestic 
them  with  a  magpie-like  closeness,  for  Esther  earthquake  broke  out.  There  was  "  a  pre- 
and  she  shared  the  same  room  ;  but  sometimes  C]0Uii  g00'^  row."  the  footman  suspected,  at  the 
when  Esther  was  asleep  she  would  peep  at| breakfast-table ;  and  after  breakfast,  Master, 
them  with  an  anxious,  lingering  tenderness,' without  waiting  tor  the  usual  attendance  of 
as  if  they  made  more  of  an  assured  reality!**18*  fractionary,  with  his  hat  and  gloves  and 
what  even  now  seemed  so  veiy  like  a  dream     a  Hansom  cab   had  flung  himself  out  at  the 

-Except,  indeed,  on  those  Sundav  nights \¥l]  doot\  slamming  j1  after  bim  with  a  noise 
when  Tom  and  she  went  to  church  together  thaWS?d.t^e,,W1ho,,1eJ10JU8e'  &h<?rt1^,  after: 
and  afterward  took  a  walk,  but  always  parted  ward.  J}ISS}**  bell  had  rung  violently,  and 
at  thecorner  of  the  square.  She  never  brought*  ,  had  .  found  ^'"S  on  the  floor  of  her 
him  in  to  the  house,  nor  spoke  of  him  to  her'  ■  ,om  m  a  ead  faint'  her  maid'  a  foohsh 
fellow  servants.  How  much  they  guessed  ofi1Uti?  Fr.e.n?hwoman'  screaming  over  her. 
her  engagement  she  neither  knew  nor  cared  {he  lightened  servants  gathered   round  in 

-w-       .„ ..  ,    j  ,         .  a  cluster,  but  nobodv   attempted  to  touch  the 

J£»*i* St  *  ,     apparency  quite  tor-    00r  Iady  who  ]av  ' ;  id  and  ^elplees,  hearing 

gotten  it.  She  seemed  to  take  as  little  interest  none  o{  "the  comments  that  were  freely  made 
in  her  servants  affairs  as  they  in  hers.  up0D  her>  or  the  (,enjectureg  a8  to  what  Master 

iNeyeitheless,  ignorant  as  the  lower  regions: had  done  or  said   that  produced  this   state  ol 


were  in  general  of  what  was  passing  in  the 
upper,  occasionally  rumors  began  to  reach  the 
kitchen  that  ' 


things.     Mistress  she. was,  and  these  four  or 
five  woman,   her  servants,  had   lived  in  her 


kitchen  that  "  Maste,i  had  been  a-blowing  up  house  for  months,  but  nobodv  loved  her:  no 
Missis,  rather !"  And  once,  after  the  solemn ibodv  knew  anv  thing  about  her;  nobodv 
dinner,  with  three  footmen  to  wait  on  twolthought  of  doing  aught  for  her,  till  a  kitchen- 
people,  was  over,  Elizabeth,  passing  through' maid,  probably  out  of  former  experience  in 
the  hah,  caught  the  said  domestics  laughing  some  domestic  emergency,  suggested,  "Fetch 
together,   and   saying  it  was  "as  good  as  a' Elizabeth." 


play  ;  cat  and  dog  was  nothing  to  it."    After!     The- advice   was  eagerly  caugnt  at,  every 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


93 


body  being  so  thankful  to  have  the  responsi- 
bility shifted  to  some  other  body's  shoulders  ; 
so  in  five  minutes  Elizabeth  had  the  room 
cleared,  and  her  mistress  laid  upon  the  bed, 
with  nobody  near  except  herself  and  the  French 
maid. 

By-and-by  Mrs.  Ascott  opened  her  eyes. 

'•  Who's  that?  What  are  you  doing  to 
me  ?"  * 


ness,  the  certain  punishment  of  such  a  Marri- 
age, even  this  woman  was  not  proof  against 
the  glorious  mystery  of  maternity,  which 
should  make  every  daughter  of  Eve  feel  the 
first  sure  hope  of  her  first  born  child  to  be  a 
sort  of  Divine  annunciation. 

Mrs.   Ascott   lay   listening   to    Elizabeth. 
Gradually  through  her  shut  eyelids  a  few  quiet 

tears  began  to  flow.  . 
Netting,   ma'am.     It's  only  me-Ehza-      „  m  *ou  mind  me  talki      tQ  you  ^  wfty 

a.\i     t«    ir  a-  •      u.  ma'am?" 

At  the  familiar  soothing  voice  the  poor  wo-      „  N     nQ ,  ^       whafc  ]ike<     1>m    ]ad 

man-a  poor    wretched   forlorn    woman   she  t    h      '  hJ    t  ak  to      Qh   ,     ^  a 

looked,   ying  there,  in  spite  of  all  her  grandeur  miserable  woman!"  • 

— turned  feebly  round.  /  * 

"Oh,  Elizabeth,  I'm  so  ill!  take  care  of'  Strange  that  Selina  Ascott  ehould  come  to 
me."     And  she  fainted  awav  once  more.  betray,  and  to  Elizabeth  Hand,  ol   all  people, 

It  was  some  time  before  she  came  quite  to |that  8he  was  a  "miserable  woman."  But 
herself,  and  then  the  first  thing  she  said  was  circumstances  bring  about  unforeseen  confi- 
to  bid  Elizabeth  bolt  the  door  and  keep  every!dences  :  and  the  confidence  once  given  is  not 
bod v  out.  easily,  recalled.     Apparently  the  lady  did  not 

"  The  doctor,  ma'am,  if  he  comes  r"  lwi8n  t0  reca11  iL     ln  the  sohtude  of  her  splert- 

"  I'll  not  see  him.     J  don't   want   him.     l!dld  house,  in  her  total  want  of  all  female  com- 


panionship— for  she  refused  to  have  her  sisters 
sent  for — "  he  would  only  insult  them,  and  I'll 
not  have  my  family  insulted  " — poor  Selina 
clung  to  her  old  servant  as  the  only  comfort 
she  had. 

During  the  dreary    months 
when,  during   the  long,  close 
the  sick  lady   scarcely  stirred 
room,  and,    fretful,    peevish, 
most  of  what  to  women  in  general   are  such 
patiently  borne   and  sacred   sufferings,  Eliza-* 
beth  was   her  constant  attendant.     She   hu- 


that  followed, 
summer  dayr», 
from  her  bed- 
ma^e  the   very 


know  what  it  is.     I — " 

She  pulled  Elizabeth  closer  to  her,  whisper 
ed  something  in  her  ear,  and  then    burst  into 
a  violent  fit  of  hysterical  weeping. 

Amazed,  shocked,  Elizabeth  at  first  did  not 
know  what  to  do  ;  then  she  took  her  mistress's 
head  on  her  shoulder,  and  quieted  her  by  de- 
grees almost  as  she  would  a  child.  The  sob- 
bing ceased,  and  Mrs.  Ascott  lay  still  a  minute, 
till  suddenly  she  clutched  Elizabeth's  arm. 

"  Mind  you  don't   tell.     He  doesn't  know, 
and  he  shall  not;  it  would  please  him  so.     It 
does   not   please   me.     Sometimes    I   almostjmored  a11  her  whims,  endured  all  her  ill-tern- 
think  I  shall  hate  it  because  it  is  his  child."    ;Per§>  cheered  her  in  her  low   spirits,  and  was. 

She  spoke  with  a  fierceness  that  was  hardly  !in  fact>  lier  mistress's  sole  companion  and 
Oi edible   either  in  the   dignified  Mrs.    Peter; fr'end. 

Ascott  or  the  languid  Miss  Selina.  To  thinkj  Thls  position  no  one  disputed  with  her.  i  i 
of  Miss  Selina  expecting  a  babv  !  The  idea  's  nofc  every  woman  who  has,  as  Miss  Leal 
perfectly  confounded  poor  Elizabeth.  nsed  to  'sa>'  °r  Elizabeth,  "a  genius  for  nura- 

"I  don't  know  very  much  about  such  mat-  lng  ;''  and  very  few  patients  make  nursing  a 
ters,"  said  she, depre'catingly  ;  "but I'm  sure ,j labor1  of  love.  The  whole  household  were 
ma'am,  you  ought  to  keep  yourself  quiet,  and  considerably  relieved  by  her  taking  a  respon- 
I  wouldn't  hate  the  poor  little  baby  if  I  were  lability  for  which  she  was  so  well  fitted  and  ao 
you.  It  may  be  a  very  nice  little  thing,  andll'ttle  envied.  Even  Mr.  Ascott,  who,  when 
turn  out  a  great  comfort  to  you."  his  approaching  honors  could  no  longer  be 

Mrs.  Ascott  lifted  her  heavy  eyes  to  the  concealed  from  him,  became  for  the  nouce  a 
kindly,  sympathetic,  womanly  face— thorough  most  attentive  husband,  and  succumbed  duti- 
woman,  for,  as  Elizabeth  went  on,  her  heart  fuHy  toeveiy  fancy  his  wife  entertained, openly 
warmed  with  the  strong  instinct  which  comes  expressed  his  satisfaction  in  Elizabeth,  and 
a]m08t  of  itself.  'gave  her  one  or  two  bright  golden  guineas  in 

'Think,  to  have  a  tiny  little  creature  lying.  ea.™est  of  his  gratitude, 
here  beside  you  ;  something  your  very  own,  How  far  she  herself  appreciated  her  new  and 
with  its  pretty  face  looking  so  innocent  and  | important  position  ;  whether  her  duties  were 
sweet  at  you,  and  its  pretty  fingers  touchingdone  from  duty,  or  pity,  or  that  determined 
you."  Here  Elizabeth's  voice  quite  falteredlself-devotedness  which  some  women  are  al- 
over  the  picture  she  had  drawn.  "Oh,  ma'am,  i  ways  ready  to  carry  out  toward  any  helpless 
I'm  sure  you  would  be  so  fond  of  it."  thing  that  needs  them,  I  can  not  say,  for  she 

Human  nature  is  strong.  This  cold,  selfish; never  told.  Not  even  to  Miss  Hilary,  who  at 
woman,  living  her  forty  years  without  any : last  was  permitted  to  come  and  pay  a  formal 
strong  emotion,  marrying  without  love,  and  visit;  nor  to  Tom  Cliffe,  whom  she  now  saw  very 
reaping,  not  in  contrition,  but  angry  bitter- 1 rarely,  for  her  mistress,  with   characteristic 


u 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


selfishness,  would  hardly  let  her  out  of  her  tleness   came  over  her.     Tier    fretful   dislike 
sight  for  half  an  hour.  ing  ce  about  her  but   Elizabe 

Tom  at  first  was  exceedingly  savage  atthi? :  became  less.   She  even  endured  her  husband's 
1 1\    degrees  he  gbl  more  reconciled,  and  met  company  for   an  hour  of  an  evening;  and 
his  sweet-heart  now  and  then  for  a  few  min-'last  humbled  her  pride  enough  to  beg  him  t 
utes  at  the  area  gate,  or*wrote  her  long  poeti-  invite  her  sisters  to  Bus  are  from  Sa 

cal  letters,  which  he  confided  to  some  of  her  urday  to  Monday,  the  only  time  when  Hilar 
fellow-servants,  who  thereby  got   acquainted  could  be  spared. 

with  their  secret.     But  it  mattered  little,    as      tf  For  we  don't  know  what  may  happen. 
Elizabeth  had  faithfully-  promised  that,  when  said  she  to  him,  rather  seriously, 
her  mistress's  trial  was  over,  and  every  thing      And  though  he  answered,  "  Oh,  nonse) 
smooth  and  happy,  she  would  marry  Tom  at  and  desired  her  to  get  such  ridiculous  fancie 
once.     So  she  took  the  jokes  b»low  stairs  with  oat  of  her  head,  still  he  consented,  and  him 
great  composure:  feeling,  indeed,    too  proud,  self  wrote  to  Miss  Leaf,  giving  the  formal  in-. ' 
and  content  to   perplex   herself  much  about  vitation. 

any  thing.  The  three  sisters  spent  a  happy  time   tu-  I 

Nevertheless,  her  life  was  nof,  easy,  for  Mrs.  gether,  and  Hilary  made  some  highly  appie-  | 
Ascott  was  very  difficult  to  manage.  She  re-  ciated  family  jokei  about  the  handsoi  • 
-isted  angrily  all  the  personal  sacrifices  entail-  Christmas  box  that  Selina  was  going  to  be  >o  j 
ed  bv  impending  motherhood,  and  its  terrors  kind  as  to  give  them,  and  the  small  proba- 
and  forebodings  used  to  come  over  her, — poor  bility  that  she  would  have  much  enjoyment  oil 
weak  woman  that  she  was!— in  a  way  that  the  Christinas  dinner  to  whjch  Mr.  Ascott.  inij 
required  all  Elizabeth's  reasonings  to  counter- the  superabundance  ot  his  ;g,  had;! 

act,  and  all   her  self-control  to   hide  the    pre-  invited  his  sisters-in-law.     The  baby,  I  ! 

sentiment  of  evil,  not  unnatural  under  the  cir- innocent  1  seemed  to  have  softened  down  albj 
oumstani  ,  things — as  babies  often  do.  • 

Yet  sometimes  poor  Mrs.  Ascott  would  take'     Altogether,  it  was  with  great  cheort'uli 
fits  of  pathetic  happiness:  when  she  busied  affectionateness,    and    hope    that    they    toolH 
herself  eagerly  over  the  preparations  for  the  leave  of  Selina :  she,   with  unwonted  conside- 
new-comer:  would  make  Elizabeth  take  out,  ration,  insisting  that  the  carriage  shot, 
over  and  over  again.thelittleclothes,  and  exam-  vey  them  all  the  way  to  Richmond. 
ine  them  with"  childish   delight.     Sometimes      "And,"  she  said,,"  perhaps  some  of  thesJi 
she  would  gossip  for  hours  over  the  blessing  days  my  son.   if  he    -  may   have   theJj 

that  was  sent  to  her  so  late  in  life — hall- pleasure  of  escorting  his  aunts  home.  !  shall! 
regretting  that  it  had  come  so  late:  that  she  certainly  call  him  •  Henr.j  Leaf,'  and  brings 
should  be  almost  an  old  woman  before  her  him  up  to  be  in  every  way  a  credit  to  onrji 
little  son  or  daughter  was  grown  up.  family." 

"Still.  I  may  live  to  see  it,  you  know:  to;     When  the  ladies  were   away,  and  Mrs.  As-' 
have  a  pretty  girl  to  take  on  my  arm  into  a  cott  had  retired    to  bed.  it  \  II  only  nine  j 

fall-room,  or  a  big  fellow  to  send  to  College:  o'clock,  mid  n  bright  moonlight  night.  KliS 
the  Leafs  always  wen;  to  College  in  old  tin  bought  she  could  steal  down  sta;r-  :md 

He  shall  be  Henry  B-fif  Ascott.  that  I  am  try  to  get  a  breath  of  iresh  air  round  lljH 
determined  on:  and  it  i;'s  a  girl,  perhaps  1  square.  Her  long  confinement  mndp  her  afl 
mav  call  her  Johanua.     My  sister  wouM  like  most  sick  sometimes   for  a  •    the  outer! 

it  :  wouldn't  sh  world.  of-— let  me  t  ntire  trutM 

For  more  and  more,  in  the  strange  sotten-  — her  own  faithfud  Tom. 
ing  of  her  nature,  did  Selina  go  baefc  to  the      She  had  not  seen  him  now  for  fourteen  dayiT 
Old  ti  and  though  his  letters  were  very  nice  and  e^ 

"  I  am  noi  older  than  my  mother  was  when  ceedii  .er,  still  she  craved  for  a  look 

Hilary  was  born.     She  died,  but  that  was  be-! his  face,  a  grasp  of  his  hand,  perhaps  even 
causeof  trouble.     'Womejt  do  not  m  id  close  and   tender,   such    i 

dm  in  childbirth  even  at  forty  :  and  in  twenty  Would  sometimes  insist  upon  giving  her,  T 
years  more  I  shall  onl;  ty — not  such  a  spite  of  all  policemen.     His   love  for  her,  dfl 

very  old  woman.  Besides,  motheis  never  are  Demonstrative  n~  was  his  nature,  had  become  toj 
old":  at  least  not  to  their  children.     Don't  you  this  still,   quiet   girl  inexpressibly  fur 

think  so.  Elizabeth  isweeter  than  she  knew. 

And  Elizabeth  answered  as  Bbe  be.-t  could.      It  v.-  ar    winter  night,  and  the  nioofl 

She  too,  out  of  sympathy  or  instinct,  was  be-  went  climbing  over  the  fleecy  wh'te  cloudy  J 
coming  wondrous  wise. "  ay  that  made  beauty  even  in  Russell  $quaJ 


But   I    am  aware  all  this   will  be   thought  Elizabeth 
very    uninteresting,    except   by   women    and  how  Tom 


ooked  up  at  the  sky.  and  thoujM 
would  have  enjoyed  it.  and  wished 

mothers.     Let  me  hasten  on.  were  beside  her,  and  was   so  glad  to  thuM 

By    degrees,    as   Mrs.    Ascott's    hour   ap-ne  would  soon    be  beside  her  always,  with  all; 

proached,  a  curious  tranquility  and  even  gen-jhis  humors  and  weaknesses,  all  his  little  cross 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID.  95 

id   complainings  :  she  could  put  upjwhose  only  pride  came  through  love,  have  no- 
all,  and  be  happy  through  all,  it'  only  6he  tiling  left  them  except  rage.     In  a  moment  all 
had  th  her  and  loving  1  their  thin  robes  of  happiness  are  lorn  off;  they 

■  her,  though  fitful  and  fan<  id  shivering,  naked  and  helpless  before  the 

:  real  tli  I   become  blasts  of  the  bitter  world, 

of  her  lift.    Ashe  always  told  her     This  was  Elizabeth's  l!ter  the  first • 

after  he  had  had.  one  of  his  little  instant  of  stunned  bewilderffi<  til    and  despair 
with  her— hi  to  him.        •  took  it  all  quite  naturally,  as  if  it  were  a 

Foni,  1  wonder  how  h"  gets  on  with- .thing  which  she  ought  all  along  to  have  known 
oiu  me  !     Well,  it  won't  be  for  lo  s  sure  to  happen,  and  which  was  no  more 

And  she  wished  shecould  have  let  him  know  than  she  expected  and  deserved. 
she  was  out  here,  that  they  might  have  had  a      She  passed  the  couple,  still  unobserved  b> 
ken  mini  them,  and  then  walked   round  the  other  side 

sciously   she    walked    toward   their  of  the  square,  deliberately  home. 
usualtryfting-place,  alargeoverhangingplane-      I  am  not. going  to  make  a  tragic  heroine  of 
tree  on  "the  Keppel  Street  corner  of  the  squarte.jthis  poor  servant  girl.     Perhaps,  people  may 
surely,    that   could    not   be   Tom  !  say,  there  is  nothing  tragic  about  the  incident. 
,  hie.  for  he  was  not  alone.     Two 'Merely  a    plain,  quiet,  old-fashioned  woman, 
■  pie,  a   young   man  -and  a   young  womanfwbo  is  so  foolish  as  to  like  a  handsome  young 
d  at   the  tryst,  absorbed  in  conversation  :  swain,  and  to  believe    in   him,  and  tb  be  sur- 
ly   sweethearts,   for  he  had  one  arm  j  prised  when  he  deserts  her  .for  a  pretty  girl  of 
round  her,  and  he  I  r  unresisted  eeve-  eighteeu.     All  quite  after   the  way  things  go 

ral  tirni  on  in    the   world,  especially    in    the   servaUt- 

almost  doubting  world  :  and  the  best  she  can  do  is  to  get  over 
the  evidence  of  her  own  Forlfce  voung  it,  or   take  another   sweetheart  as  quickly  as 

n's  figure  isively  likT  Tom's,  possible.     A  very  common  story  after  all,  and 

At  length,  with  the  Bort  of  feeling  that  makes  more  of  a  farce  than  a  tragedy. 

»o  steadily  up  to  a  shadow  by  the  roadside,      But  there  are  some  farces  which,  if  you  look 
that  we  feel  sure,  ijwc  stare  underneath  the  surface,  have  a  good  many  of 
it  out,  will  prove  to  be  a  mere  imagination,  she  ths  elements  of  tragedy. 

walked    deliberately    up   to    and  past    these!     I  shall  neither  paint    Elizabeth  tearing  her 

own  hair  nor  Esther's,  nor  going  raging  about 

They  did   not  see  her:  they  were   far  too'the  square  in  moonlight   in   an    insane  fit  oi' 

much  occupied  with  one  another  ;  but  she  saw  jealousy.     She  was  not-given  to  "fits"  under 

them,  and  saw  at  once  that  it  was  Tom,  Tom's  any  circumstances,  or  about   any  thing.     All 

own  self,   and,  with    him    her  fellow-servant,  she  felt  -  into  her  heart,  rooted 

elf,  and  either  blossomed  or  cankered  there. 
People  may  write  volumes  on  jealousy,  and      On  this  night   she.  as  1  said,  walked  round 
volume  till  remain  to  be  written.     It  is  the  square  to  her  home  :  then  quietly  went  up 

tto  remorse  for  guilt,  the  sharpest,  sorest,  stairs  to  her   garret.  lOefted 
y  torment  that  human   nature  down  upon  her  bed. 

She  might  have    sat    there    lor  an    hour. or 

om  the  boxes  atourlmore,  her  bonnet  and  shawl    still  on,  without 

may    laugh    at  the  stirring,  without    crying,  altogether  cold  and 

heart-burnings  between  Cousin  Kate  and  hard  like  a  stone,  when  eied  *he  heard 

Lucy  in  the  ball-room,  or  the  squabbles  her  mi-'  tell  ring,  and  mechanically  rose 

of  Mary  and  Sally    in  the    kitchen    over  the  up  and  went  down  o  listen.     Nothing 

1^1  :  but  there   fhe  thing*remains.  was  wanted,  bo  she  returned  to  her  garret  and 

A  man  can  ™ot    make  love  to   two  women,  a  crept  to  bed  in  the.  darkl 

svemioii  can  not  i  ith  two  men.  without      When  soon  afterward  Esther  likewise  came 

ing  in  d  at  horrible  lizabeth   pretened  to  be   asleep. 

as  death,  which  is  at   the. root  of  half  th  ily    once,  taking    ^  stealthy    glance   at  the 

id  the  cause  of  half  the  crimes  of  this  pretty  girl  who  stood  combing  her  hair  at  the 

looking-glass,  she  was  conscious  of  a  sick  sense 

rent    fori  In  like  a  knife  running  thro' 

pomei  »uag  lips  which  Tom 

ordeal  by  red-hoi  irons,  which  though  n  d  just  been  kissing,  :ht  figure  which 

jal,  undermines  the  whole  character,  and  burns  he  had  clasped  as  he  used  tc  her.     But 

ineffaceable  ecarS  into  the  soul.     And  people  she  neve-  e  word. 

take  it  in  various  way- — some   I  roused  by  the 

■_•  of  wounded  self-love:  others  haugh- nurse  coming   to    her  Mjrs.   Ascotl 

tily  :  was  very    ill,  and  Elizabeth. 

vobe,  I'll  '  on  the  whole establisl  i  confusion. 

Others,  again,  humble,  self-distrustful  natures,  and  in    the  .sharp  struggle  between    birth  and 


96 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


death  Elizabeth  had  no  time  to  think  of  any!  And  Elizabeth  had  just  answered,  "Yea" — 
thing  but  her  mistress.  no  more. 

Contrary  to  every  expectation,  all  ended  During  tbe  fortnight  she  had  seen  nothing 
speedily  and  happily  ;  and  before  he  went  off  'of  Tom.  He  had  written  her  a  short  note  or 
to  the  City  next  day  the  master  of  the  house,  two,  and  the  cook  told  her  he  had  been  to  the 
frhb,  in  the  midst  of  his  anxiety  and  felicity,  kitchen  door  several  times  asking  for  her,  but 
had  managed  to  secure  a  good  night's  sleep  being  answered  that  she  was  with  her  mistress 
and  a  good  breakfast,  had  the  pleasure  of  up  stairs,  had  gone  away, 
sending  off"  a  special  messenger  to  the  Tinus  "  In  the  sulks,  most  like,  though  he  didn't 
office  with  the  notification,  "  The  Lady  of  Pe-  look  it.     He's  a  pleasant  spoken   young  man, 

and  I'm  sure  I  wish  you  luck  with  him,"  said 
[Cookie,  who.  like  all  the  other  servants,  was 
|now  exceedingly  civil  to  Elizabeth. 

Her  star  had  risen  ;  she  was  considered  in 
, the  household  a  most  fortunate  woman,  li 
was  shortly  understood  that    nurse-  majestic 


ter  Ascott,  Esq.,  of  a  son  and  heir." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


\  fortnight  s  time  rather   increased  thannurse,  had  spoken  so  highly  of  her,  that  at  the 


diminished   the   excitement    incident  on    the  I  month's  end  the  baby  was  to  be  given  entirely 
event  at  Russell  Square. 

Never  was  there  such  a    wonderful 


[i#to  her  charge,   with,   of  course,  an  almost 


and  never  was  there  such  a  fuss  made  ov 


babv   fabulous  amount  of  wages, 
ver  it! I     "  Unless."  said  Mrs.  Asc 


cott,  when  this  pro- 


...x.  o^-  apprehensions   of  its  dyi_, 

had  been  baptized   in  a  great  hurry,  "Henrv  willing  to  get  married,  and  think  you  would 

Leaf  Ascott."  according  to  the  mother's  desire, ,be  happ»   married.     In  that  case  I   won't 

which  in  her  critical  position  nobodv  dared  tolhmder  >'ou-     But  ll  uould  be  sucb  a  comfort 

thwart.     Even  at  the  end  of  fourteen  days  the,t0  m_e>  keeP  )'ou  a  ]  *fe  longer/ 

•'son  and  heir"  was  still   a  puling,    sickly,: 

;  ellow-faced  baby. 


every  thing. 

F/om  the  moment  she  heard  its  first- cry 
Mrs.  Ascott's  whole  nature  seemed  to  undergo 


"  Thank  you,  ma'am,"  answered  Elizabeth, 

s  softly,  anl  busied  herself  with  walking  baby 

up  and  .down    the   room,  hushing  it   on    her 

shoulder.     If  in  the  dim  light  tears  fell  on  its 

puny  face,  God  help  her,  poor  Elizabeth  ! 

Mrs.  Ascott  made  such  an  excellent  recove- 
a  change  Her  very  eyes-those  cold  blue  ^  in  threp  weeks>  time.nobodv  was  the 
eyes  of  Miss  belina  e-took  a   depth  and  ten-i^  anxioufl  ab()ut   fc  d   Mr/Ascott  ar_ 

derness  whenever  she   turned   to  look  at  tne  d  tQ  fit    t  Qn  a  buainess       ^  EJin. 

little  bundle  tha lay  beside    her.     She  neverlbur|h  i8i        h  J       b/taofc    in 

wearied  of  touching  the  tiny  hands  and  feet,  i^  ^  for  ^  Christmas  dinner,  winch 
and  wondering  at  them   and  show,ng-to  ev-,  be  a  grand  celebration.     Miss  Leaf  and 

ery  one  of  the   household    who   was  favored  ^  Hilanf  were  to  thereat   in  their 

with  a  sight  of  it-  my  baby,  as  it  it  nad|weddi  dreS8es  .  andMk  Ascott  herself  took 
been  a  miracle  of  the  universe,  .She  was  so;tbe  mQ»  vUa,  ii)tcregt  in  Johanna.s  havi  a 
unutterably  happy  and  proud.  inew  (;ap  for   ^  occasiou      Nav  ghe  jnsi8t'ed 

Elizabeth,  too,  seemed  not  a  little  proud  ofiupon  ordering  it  from   her  own'  milliner,  and 
the  baby.     To  her  arms  it  had  first  been  com-|bav;ng  it  made  of  the  most  beautiful  lace- 
mitted  ;  she  had  stood  by  at   its  first  washing   - 
and  dressing,  and  had  scarcely  left  it  or  her 
mistress  since.     Nurse,  a  very  grand  person- 


the    "sweetest"   old  lady's  cap  that  could 
possibly  ha  invented.  • 

Evidently  this  wonderful  babv  f^au  opened 
age,  had  been  a   little^jealous  ot   her  at  first,  all  hearts,  "and  drawn  every  natural  tie  closer, 
but  soon  grew  condescending,  and  made  greatjSelina,  lying  on  the  sofa,  in  her  graceful  white 
use  of  her  in  the  sick  room,  alleging  that  such  wrapper,  and   her    neat  close   cap,  looke 
an  exceedingly  sensible  young.person,  so  quiet  voting  bo  pretty,  and,  above  all,  soexceeding- 
and  steady,  wae   almoet  as  good  as  a  middle- ny  gentle  and  motherly,  that  hereisters'  h 
agedmarried  woman.     Indeed,  she  oner-  asked  were  ;„>]  to  overflowing.     They  acki. 
Elizabeth  if  she  was  ice  she  looked  t\litl  happiness,  like  misery,  was  often  brought 

as  if  she  had  "seen  trouble;"  and  was  very  about  in  a  fashion  totally  unforeseen  and  in- 
much  surprised  to  learn  she  was  single  andcre(iible.  Who  wo-ild  have  thought,  for  in- 
only  twenty-three  years  old.  stance,  on  that  wretched  night  when  Mr. 
Nobody  else  took  any  notion  of  her.  Even  Ascott  came  to  Hilary  at  Kensington,  or  on 
Miss  Hilary  was  so  engrossed  by  her  excite- 'that  dreary  heartless  wedding-day,  that  thej 
meut  and  delight  over  the  baby  that  she  onlyjshould  ever  have  been  sitting  in  Selina's  room 
observed,  "  Elizabeth,  you  look  rather  worn-jso  merry  and  comfortable,  admiring  the  baby, 
out:  this  has  been  a  trying   time-  for  you."jand  on  the  friendliest  terms  with  baby's  papa? 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


97 


"Papa  "  is  a  magical  word,  and  let  married;  He  took  it ;  and  she  crept  away  from  him 
people  have  fallen  ever  60   wide  asunder,  the  and  sat  down. 

thought,  "my  child's  mother."  "my  I  "Tom,  I've  got  something  to  say  to  you 

father,"  must  in  some  degree  bridge  the  gulf  and  I'd  better  say  it  at  once." 
between  them.  When  Peter  Ascott  was  seen  "To  be  sure.  'Tisn't  anv  bad  news  from 
etoomng,  awkwardly  enough,  over  his  son's  home,  is  it  ?  Or"— looking*  uneasily  at  her— 
cradle,  poking  his  dumpy  fingers  into  each  ;- J  haven't  vexed  you,  have  I ?" 
tiny  cheek  in  a  half-alarmed,  half-investiga-  "Vexed  me/'  she  repeated,  thinking  what 
ting  manner,  as  if  he  wondered  how  it  had  all  a  small  foolish  word  it  was  to  express  what 
come  about,  but,  on  the  whole,  was  rather  had  happened,  and  what  she  had  been  suffer- 
pleased  than  otherwise— the  good  angel  ot  the  ing.  "  No,  Tom,  not  vexed  me  exactly.  But 
household  might  have  stood  by  and  smiled.  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question.  Who  was  it 
trusting  that  the  ghastly  skeleton  therein  that  you  stood  talking  with,  under  our  tree  in 
might  in  time  crumble  away  into  harmless  the  square,  between  nine  and  ten  o'clock  this 
dust,  under  the  sacred  touch  of  infant  fingers.  J  nig  lit  three  weeks  ago?" 

The  husband  and  wife  took  a  kindly,  even  Though  there  was  no  anger  in  the  voice  it 
affectionate  leave  of  one  another.  3Ifs.  Ascott'  was  so  serious  and  deliberate  thafit  made  Tom 
called  him  "  Peter,"  and  begged  him  to  take  start. 

care  of  himself,  and   wrap  up   well  that  cold:     "Three  weeks  ago;  how  can   1   possibly 
night.     And   when   he  was  gone,  and  her  sis- tell?" 

ters  also,  she  lay  on  her  sofa  with    her  eyes      "  Yes,  you  can  :  for  it  was  a  fine  moonlight 
open,  thinking,     tt  hat  sort  of  thoughts  they  night,  and  you  stood  there  a  Ion*  time  " 
were,  whether   repentant,  or   hopeful,  solemn  fjnder   the  tree,    talking   to  somebody'' 

or  tender  whether    they    might  have  passed|What   nonsense!     Perhaps   it  wasn't  meat 
away  and    been    ioj-gotten,  or   how  far  theylall." 

might  have  influenced  her   life  to  come,  none      "  It  was,  for  I  saw  vou  " 
knew  and  none  ever  did  know.  "The  devil  vou  did  !"  muttered  Tom. 

W  hen  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door,  and,     "Don't  be  angry,  onlv  tell  me  the  plain  truth 
a  message  tor  Elizabeth,  }£rs.  Ascott  suddenly  The  young  woman  that  was  with  vou  was  our 

rheard  it  and  turned  round.  [Esther  here,  wasn't  she  '"' 

-Who  is  wanting  you  ?  Tom  Clifle  ?  Isn't'  For  a  moment  Tom  looked  altogether  con- 
that  the  young  man  you  are  to  be  married  to?,  founded.  Then  he  tried  to  recover  himself 
Qo  down  to  him  at  once.  An,!  stay,  ;Eliza- land  said  crossly,  '•  Well,  and  if  itwas,  where's 
beth,  as  it  s  such  a  bitter  night,  take  him  for  the  harm?  Can't  a  man  be  civil  to  a  pretty 
halt  an    hour  into   the   housekeeper's   room,  girl  without  being  called  over  the  coals  in  this 

1  her  up  stairs,  and   tell  her  I  wished  it.  way  '"' 
thoughldon't  allow  •  followers' "  Jv  i^abeth  made  no  answer,  at  least  not  im- 

lhank  you.  ma  am,'  said  Elizabeth  on.ee (mediately.     At  last  she  said,  in  a  very  o-entle 

re,  and  obeyed.     .She   must  speak  to  Tom  subdued  voice, 
some  time   it  might  as  well  be  done  to-night      "  Tom,  are  you  fond  of  Esther?     Youwould 
as  not.     VV  ithout  pausing  to  think,  she  went  not  kiss  her  if  vou  were  not  fond  of  her      Do 
down  with  dull  heavy  steps  to  the  housekeep-  you  like  her  as— as  vou  used  to  like  me?" 
er  is  room.  And  she  looked  right  up  into  his  eyes.     Hers 

lorn  stood  there  alone.     He   looked  so  ex-  had  no  reproach  in   them,  onlv  a  piteous  en- 
his  own   old   self,  he  came   forward  to  treaty,  the  last  clinging  to  a  hope  which  she 
meet  her  so  completely  in  his  old  familiar  way,  knew  to  be  false. 

that  for  the  instant  she  thought  she  must  be  "  Like  Esther?  Of  cuui-c  I  do''  She's  a 
under  some  dreadful  delusion  ;  that  the  moon-  nice  sort  of  girl,  and  we're  very  o-ood  friends  " 
light  night  in  the  square  must  have  been  alia  "Tom,  a/ man  can't  be  'friends,'  in  that 
geam;  Esther  .till  the  silly  little  Esther,  sort  of  way,  with  a  prettv  girl  of  eighteen, 
whom  loin  had  often  heard  ot  and  laughed  when  he  ,s  gomg  to  be  married  to  somebody 
and   Ipm,  her   own    Tom,  whe  loved  no-  else.     At  least,  in  my  mind,  he  ou»ht  not" 


bodv  but  her. 


Tom  laughed  in  a   confused 


I 


....  *"'"  ,nup"c'1  "•  *   eouiuseu    manner,     "i 

Elizabeth    what  an  ■  [Ve  nad  say,  y«u'rejealo  you'd  better  get  over 

■'  -  -"■    '  :  .'  "i '  it." 

it  though  the  maimer  was  warm  as  ever,       Was  she  jealous  /  was  it  all   fancy,   folly? 
•'in  his  tone  Did  Tom  stand  there,  true  as  steel,  without  a 

mething -mote  her,  as  if  Duty  trio.I  teelinw  in  Im'j    l.ocrt    tUat    d,,     a:  l  .  ~.      i 

To  mock  the  voice  of  L<*ve,  how  long  since  flown,"  %i  g*     't  .      ^      ,  did  not    share, 

„    ,      .  t        ,  ,-,-,,,.        '       wlthout  a,  hope  in  which  she  was  not  united, 

and  quiet  as  she   stood,  Elizabeth  shivered  in, hoi  ling  her.  and  preferring  her,  with  that   iijl 

la^S'       ,    ,     .,  ,.     .       ,  d-iduality  and  unity  of  love  which  true  love 

Why.   what  a   the   matter  ?      Aren't  you       ,r  gives  and  exact*,  as  it  has  a  right  to  ex- 
glad  to  see  me  .'    Give  me  another  kiss,  my  act  ? 

glr1,  do!"  N'ot  that  poor  Elizabeth  reasoned  in  this  wav. 

M 


98 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


butehe  felt  the  thiDg  by  instinct  without  rea-|     She  spoke  stro-      \  unhesitatingly,  and  for 
eoning.  an  instant  ther  v  '■'■  ved  out  of  her  soft  eyes 

"Ton/,"  ehe  said,  "tell  me  outright,  just  that  wild  fierce    -     rk.  latent  even  in    these 
as  if  I  was  somebody  else,  and  had  never  be-  ■  juiet  humble  natures,  which   is  dangerous  to 
longed  to  you   at   all,   do   you   love   Esther:  meddle  with. 
Martin  ?"  Tom  did  not  attempt  it.     He  felt  all  was 

Truthful  people  enforce  truth.     Tom  might  over.     Whether  he  had  lost  or  gained  :  wheth- 
be  fickle,  but  he  was  not  deceitful ;  he  could  er  he  was  glad  or  sorry,  he  hardly  knew, 
not  look  into   Elizabeth's  eyes  and  tell  her  a '     "  I'm  not  going  to  take  this  back,  any  how," 
deliberate  lie :  somehow  he  dared  not.  he   said,  "fiddling''    with   the  brooch:  and 

"Well,  then — since  you  will  have  it  out of( then  going  up  to  her,  he  attempted,  with 
me — 1  think  I  do."  trembling  hands,  to  refasten  it  in  her  collar. 

So  Elizabeth's  "ship  went  down."  It  The  familiar  action,  his  contrite  look,  were 
might  have  been  a  very  frail  vessel,  that  no-  too  much.  People  who  have  once  loved  one 
body  in  their  right  senses  would  have  trusted (another,  though  the  love  is  dead  (for  love  can 
any  treasure  with,  still  she  did :  and  it  was  all  die),  are  not  able  to  bury  it  all  at  once,  or  if 
she  had,  and  it  went  down  to  the  bottom  like  they  do,  its  pale  ghost  will  still  come  knock- 
a  stone,  irig  at  the  door  of  their  hearts,  "  Let  me  in, 

It  is  astonishiug  how  soon  the  sea  closes; let  me  in  !" 
over  this  sort  of  wreck  :  and  how  quietly  peo-  Elizabeth  ought,  I  know,  in  proper  feminine 
pie  take — whea  they  must  take,  and  there  is  dignity,  to  have  bade  Tom  farewell  without  a 
no  more  disbelieving  it — the  truth  which  they  glance  or  a  touch.  But  she  did  not.  When 
would  have  given  their  lives  to  prove  was  an; he  had  fastened  her  brooch  she  looked  up  in 
impossible  lie.  ,  his  familiar  face  a  sorrowful,  wistful,  linger- 

Forsome  minutes  Tom  stood  facing  the  fire,  ing  look  and  then  clung  about  his  neck: 
and  Elizabeth  sat  on  her  chair  opposite  with-      "  O  Tom,  Tom,  1  was  so  fbnd  of  you  I" 
outspeaking.     Then  she  took  off  her  brooch.      And  Tom  mingled  his   tears  with  hers,  and 
the  only  love-token  he  had  given  her.  and  put  kissed  her   many  times,  and    even  felt  his  old 
it  into  his  hand.  affection  returning,  making  him  half  oblivious 

"  What's  this  for  ?"  asked  he,  suddenly.  Esther ;  but  mercifully — for  love  rebuilt  up- 

"You  know.  YouM  better  give  it  to  Esther,  on  lost  faith  is  like  a  house  founded  upon 
IVfl  Esther,  not  me,  you  must  marry  now."  nds — the  door   opened,  and    Esther   hei 

And  the  thought  of  Esther,  giddy,  flirting,  jeame  in. 
useless  Esther,  as  Tom's  wife,  wasalmost  more;     Laughing,    smirking,   pretty    Esther,  who, 
than  she  could  bear.     The  sting  of  it  put  even  thoughtless  as  she   was.  had  yet  the  sense  to 
into  her  crushed  humility  a  certain  honest  self-  draw  back  when  she  saw  them, 
assertion.  "  Come  here,  Esther  !"  Elizabeth  called,  irri- 

•'  I'm  not  going  to  blame  you.  Tom  ;  but  1  peratively;  and  she  came, 
think  I'm  as  good  as  she.     I'm  not  pretty,  1 !     "  Esther,  I've  given  up  Tom  ;  you  may  take 
know,  nor  lively,  nor  young,  at  least  I'm  old  him  if  he  wants  you.     Make  him  a  good  wife. 
for   my   age;  but    I    wa.~    worth    Bomething.jand  I'll  Forgive  you.     If  not — " 
You  should  not  have  served  me  so.''  She  could  not  say  another  word.     She  shut 

Tom  said,  the  usual  excuse,  that  he  "couldn't!  the  door  upon  them,  and  crept  up  stairs,  con- 
help  it.''     And    suddenly    turning   round,  he;scious  only  of  ore  thought — if  she  only  could 
ofigged  her.  to   forgive  him,  and   noc 
him. 

She  i'ursake  Tom!     Elizabeth  almost  smiled.;      And  in  this  fate  was  kind  to  her,  though  in 

••  I  do  forgive  you  :  I'm  nota  bit  arfgry  with  that  awful  way  in  which  fate — say  rather Prov- 
you.     If  I  ever  was  1  have  gol  over  it."  -nee — often  works.;  cutting,  with  one  sharp 

"  That';-  right.  You're  a  dear  soul.  Do  blow,  some  knot  that  our  poor,  feeble,  mortal 
you  think  that  1  don't  like  you,  [Elizabeth  ?"    fingers  have  been  long  laboring  at  in  vain,  or 

"Oh  yes,"    she  said,  sadly,   "  I  daresay  you  making  that  which    seemed  impossible  to  do 
do,  a  little,  in   spite   of  Esther  Martin.     But  [the  moat  natural,   easy,  and   only  thing  to  be 
that's  not  my  way  of  liking,  and   I  couldn't  done. 
stand  it. ':  How  strangely  often    in    human   life  "one 

"What  couldn't  you;  -  woe  doth  tread  upon  the  other's  heel !"     How 

"Your  kissing  me  today,  and  another  girl  continually,  while  one  of  those  small  private 
to-morrow:  your  telling  me  1  wf.s  every  thing  tragedies  that  1  have  spoken  of  is  being  enact- 
to  you  one  week,  and  saying  exactly  tin  <!  within,  the  acl  called  upon  to  meet 
thing  to  another  girl  the  next  It  would  be'some  other  tragedy  from  without,  so  that  ex- 
hard  enough  to  bear  if  we  were  only  friends.jternal  energy  counteracts-  inward  emotion,  and 
but  as  sweet-hearts,  as  husband  and  wife,  it  holy  sympathy  with  another's  sufferings  stifles 
would  be  impossible.     No*  Tom,  I  tell  you  the  all  personal  pain.     That  truth  about  sorrows 


forsake  get  away  from  them,  and   never  see  either  of 
their  faces  any  more ! 


truth,  I  could  not  stand  it." 


;coming  "in    battalions"  may  have   a  divine 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


99 


meaning  in  it — may  be  one  of  those  mysterious!  She  stopped  ;  and  as  nurse  determinately 
laws  winch  guide  the  universe — laws  that  we  carried  it  away,  she  attempted  do  resistance, 
can  only  trace  in  fragments,  and  guess  at  the  only  followed  it  across  the  room  with  eager 
rest,  believing,  in  deep  humility,  that  one  day  eves.  It  was  the  last  glimmer  of  reason  there. 
we  shall  "  know  even  as  we  are  known."  From  that    time  hei    mind  began    to  wander, 

Therefore  1  ask  no  pity  tor  Elizabeth,  be, and  before  morning  she  was  slightly  deHrious. 
cause  ere  she  had  time  to  collect  herself,  and  Still  nobody  apprehended  danger.  Nobody 
realize  in  her  poor  confused  mind  that  she  really  knew  any  thing  about  the  matter  ex- 
had  indeed  said  good  by  to  Tom,  given  him  up  cept  nurse,  and  she,  with  aselfish  fearof  being 
and  parted  from  him  forever,  she  was  summon-  blamed  for  carelessness,  resisted  sending  for 
ed  to  her  mistress's  room,  there  to  hold  a  the  doctor  till  his  usual  hour  of  calling.  In 
colloquy  outside  the  door  with  the  senously-.that  large  house,  as  in  many  other  large  houses, 
perplexed  nurse.  every  body's  business  was  nobody's  business, 

One  of  those  sudden  changes  had  come  and  a  member  of  the  family,  even  the  mistress, 
which  sometimes,  after  all  seems  safe,  strike  might  easily  be  sick  oc  dying  in  some  room 
terror  into  a  rejoicing  bousehold,.and  end  by  therein,  while  all  things  else  went  on  just  as 
carrying  away,  remorseless,  the  young  wife  usual,  and  no  one  was  any  the  wiser, 
from  her  scarcely  tasted  bJiss,  the"  mother  of!  About  noon  even  Elizabeth's  ignorance  was 
many  children  from  her  close  circle  of  happy i roused  up  to  the  conviction  that  something 
duties  and  yparning  loves.  was  very  wrong  with   Mrs.  Ascott,  and   that 

Mrs.  Ascott  was  ill.  Either  she  had  taken  nurse's  skill  could  not  counteract  it.  On  her 
cold  or  been  too  much  excited*  Or.  in  the  oversown  lesponsibility  she  sent,  or  rather  she  went 
confidence  of  her  recovery,  some  slight  neglect. to  fetch  the  doctor.  He  came  ;  and  his  fiat 
had  occurred — some  trifle  which  nobody  thinksthrew  the  whole  household  into  consternation, 
of  till  afterward,  and  which  yet  proves  the  fatal  Now  they  knew  that  the  poor  lady  whose 
cause,  "the  little  pin"  that  happiness  bad  touched  the  very  stoniest  hearts 

in  the  establishment  hovered  upon  the  brink 

-TSores  through  the  castle  wall"  i    „  ,.  ■»,• ,,   .1        „„„„„  <,„.„„„»,, 

of  the  grave.  .Now  all  toe  women-servants, 
of  mortal  hope,  and  King  Death  enters  in  all  down  to  the  little  kitchen-maid  with  her  dirty 
his  awful  state.  apron  at  her  eyes,   crept  upstairs,  one  after 

Nobody  knew  it  or  dreaded  it:<  for  thoughjtbe  other,  to  the  door  of  what  had  been  such 
Mrs.  Ascott  was  certainly  ill,  she  was  not  at  a  silent,  mysterious  room,  and  listened,  unhin- 
first  very  ill;  and  there  being  no  telegraphs  in  :dered,  to  the  ravings  that  issued  thence.  "Poor 
those  days  no  one  thought  of  sending  tor  either  jMissis,"  and  the  "poor  little  baby,"  were 
her  husband  or  her  Bisters.  But"  that  veryjspoken  of  softly  at  the  kitchen  dinner  table, 
hour,  when  Elizabeth  went  up  to  her  mistress,  and  confidentially  sympathized  over  with  in- 
and  saw  the  flush  on  her  cheek,  and  the  rest- 
less expression  of  her  eve,  King  Death  had 
secretly  crept  in  at  the  doorol  the  mansion  in 
Russell  Square. 

The  patient  was  carefully  removed  back  in- 
to her  bed.  She  said  little,  except  once,  look- 
ing up  uneasily— 


quiring  tradespeople  at  the  area  gate.  A  sense 
of  awe  and  suspensestole  over  the  whole  house, 
gathering  thicker  hour  by  hour  of  that  dark 
December  day. 

When  her   mistress   was  first  pronounced 
:"in  danger,"  Elizabeth,  aware  that  there  was 
no  one  to  act  but  herself,  had   taken  a  brief 
"  I  don't  feel  quite  myself!,  Elizabeth."  opportunity  to  slip  from  the  room  and  write 

And  whenlier*  servant  soothed  her  in  the. two  letters,  one  to  her  master  in  Edinburgh, 
long-familiar  way,  telling  her  &be  would  be  bet-  and  the  other  to  Miss  Hilary.  The  first  she 
ter  in  the  morning,  she  smiled  contentedly.  ;gave  to  the  footman  to  post ;  the  second  she 
and  turned  to  go  to  sleep.  charged  him  to  send  by  special  messenger  to 

Nevertheless,  Elizabeth  did  not  go  to  her' Richmond.  But  he,  being  lazily  inclined,  or 
bed,  but  sat  behind  the  cm  tain,  motionless,  for'else  thinking  that,  as  the  order  was  only  given 
an  hour  or  more.  by  Elizabeth,  it   was  of  comparative^   little 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  night,  when  her  moment,  posted  them  both.  So  vainly  did  the 
baby  was  brought  to  her,  and  the  child  in-|poorgirl  watch  and  wait;  neither  Miss  Leaf 
stinctively  refused  its  natural  food,  and  began  nor  Miss  Hilary  came, 
screaming  violently,  Mrs.  Ascott's  troubled 
look  returned. 

What  is  the  matter  ?     What  are   vou  do- 


By  night  Mrs.   Ascott's  delirium  began  to 

subside,    but   her  strength    was  ebbing  fast. 

Two  physicians — three — stood  by  the  uncon- 

ing,  nurse?     I  won't  be  parted  from  my  babyscious  woman,  and  pronounced  that  all  hope 

was  gone,  if,  indeed,  the  case  had  not  been 
hopeless  from  the  beginning. 

"  Where  is  her  husband  ?  Has  she  no  rela- 
tions— no  mother  or  sisters?"  asked  the  fash- 
ionable physician,  Sir — ,  touched  by 


-I  won't,  I  say !" 

And  when,  to  sooth  her,  the  little  thing  was 
again  put  into-  her  arms,  and  again  turned 
from  her,  a  frightened  expression  came  into 
the  mother's  face. 

"  Am  I  going  to  be  ill  ? — is  baby—" 


the  slight  or  this  poor  lady  dying  alone,  with 


100 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


only  a  nurse  and  a  servant  about  her.  "  If  she' tors  had  said  it  would.  Mrs.  Ascott  opened 
has,  they  ought  to  be  sent  for  immediately."    her  eyea  :  they  wandered  from  side  to  side,  and 

Elizabeth  ran  down  stairs,  and  rouging  the  then  she  said,  feebly, 
old  butler  from  his   bed,  prevailed  on  him  to      "  Elizabeth,  where 's  my  baby  ?" 
start  immediately  in  the  carriage  to  bring  back      What  Elizabeth  answered  she  never  could 
Miss  Leaf  and  Miss  Hilary.     It  would  be  mid-  remember ;  perhaps  nothing,  or  her  agitation 
night  before   he   reached   Eichmond  :  still  it  betrayed  her,  for  Mrs.  Ascott  said  again, 
must  be  done.  I     "Elizabeth,  am  I  going  to— to  leave  my 

"  I'll  do  it,  my  girl/'  said  be,  kindly  ;  "and! baby?" 
I'll  tell  them  as  gently  as  I  can.     Never  fear."      Some  people  might  have  considered  it  best  to 

When  Elizabeth  returned  to  her  mistress'aireply  with  a  lie — the  frightened,  cowardly  lie 
room  the  doctors  were  all  gone,  and  nurse,  jthat  is  so  often  told  at  death-beds  to  the  soul 
standing  at  the  foot  of  Mrs.  Ascott's  bed,  was|  passing  direct  to  its  God.  But  this  girl  could 
watching  her  with  the  serious  look  which  even  j  not  and  dared  not. 

a  hireling  or  a  stranger  wears  in  the  presence  Leaning  over  her  mistress,  she  whispered  as 
of  that  sight  which,  however  familiar,  never  softly  as  she  could,  choking  down  the  tears  that 
grows  less  awful — a  fellow  creature  slowly  pas-  might  have  disturbed  the  peace  which,  merci- 
sing  from  this  life  into  the  life  unknown.  fully,  seemed  to  have  come  with  dying, 

Elizabeth  crept  up  to  the  other  side.  '  Thei     "  Yes,  you  are  going  very  soon — to  God.  He 
change,  undescribableyet  unmistakable,  which  will  watch  ov.er  baby,  and  give  him  back  to 
comes  over  a  human   face  when  the  warrant  you  again  some  day  quite  safe." 
for  its  dissolution  has  gone  forth,  struck  her  at      "  Will  He?"t 
once.  The  tone  was  submissive,   half-inquiring : 

Never  yet  had  Elizabeth  seen  death.  Her  like  that  of  a  child  learning  something  it  had 
father's  she  did  not  remember,  and  among  her  never  learned  before — asSelina  was  now  learn- 
few  friends  and  connections  none  other  bad  oc-ing.  Perhaps  even  those  three  short  weeks  of 
curred.  At  twenty-three  years  of  age  she  was!  motherhood  had  power  so  to  raise  her  whole 
still  ignorant  of  that  solemn  experience  which  nature  that  she  now  gained  the  composure 
every  woman  must  go  through  some  time,  oft-  with  which  even  the  weakest  soul  can  some- 
en  many  times  during  her  life.  For  it  is  to;  times  meet  death,  and  had  grown 'not  unwor- 
women  that  all  look  in  their  extreme  hour.  ,thy  of  the  dignity  of  a  Christian's  dying. 
Very  few  men,  even  the  tenderest  hearted,  are  Suddenly  she  shivered.  "lam  afraid;  I 
able  to  watch  by  the  last  struggle  and  close  never  thought  of — this.  Will  nobody  come 
the  eyes  of  the  dying.  and  speak  to  me?" 

For  the  moment,  as  she  glanced  round  the  Oh,  how  Elizabeth  longed  for  Miss  Hilary, 
darkened  room,  and  then  at  the  still  figure  on  for  any  body,  who  would  have  known  what  to 
the  bed,  Elizabeth's,  courage  failed.  Strong  say  to  the  dying  woman  :  who  perhaps,  as  her 
love  might  have  overcome  this  fen r — the  natu- look  and  words  implied,  till  this  hour  had 
ral  recoil  of  youth  and  life  from  coining  into  never  thought  of  dying.  Once  it  crossed  the 
contact  with  death  and  mortality:  hut  love  servant's  mind  to  send  for  some  clergyman: 
was  not  exactly  the  bond  between-  her  and  but  she  knew  none,  and  was  aware  that  Mrs. 
Mrs.  Ascott.  It  was  rather  duty,  pity.  <he  Ascott  did  not  either.  She  had  no  supersti- 
tenderness  that  would  have  sprung  up  in  her  'lions  feeling  that  any  clergyman  would  do  ; 
heart  toward  any  body  she  had  watched  and  just  to  give  a  sort  of  spiritual  extreme  unction 
tended  so  long,  to  the  departing  soul.     Her  own> religious  faith 

"If  she  should  die,  die  in  the  night,  before^was  of  such  an  intensely  personal  silent  kind, 
Miss  Hilary  comes  !"  thought  the  poor  girl,  that  she  did  not  believe  in  any  good  to  be  de- 
and  glanced  once  more  around  the  shadowy  rived  from  a  strange  gentleman  coming  and 
room,  where  she  was  now  left  quite  alone.  For  praying  by  the  bedside  of  a  stranger,  repeating 
nurse,  thinking  with  true  worldly  wisdom  of  set  sayings  with  a  set  countenance,  and  going 
the  preservation  of  the  "son  and  heir,"  which  away  again.  And  yet  with  that  instinct  which 
was  decidedly  the  most  important  question 'comes  to  almost  every  human  soul,  fast  de- 
now,  had  stolen  away,  and  was  busy  in  the  parting,  Mrs.  Ascott's  white  lips  whispered, 
next  room,  seeing  various  young  women  whom  "Pray." 

the  doctors  had  sent,  one  of  whom  was  to  sup-i  Elizabeth  had  no  words,  except  those  which 
ply  to  the  infant  the  place  of  the  poor  mother]  Miss  Leaf  used  to  say  night  after  night  in  the 
whom  it  would  never  know.  little  parlor  at  Stowbury.     She   knelt  down, 

There  was  nobody  left  but  herself  to  watch  and  in  a  trembling  voice  repeated  in  her  mis- 
this  dying  mother,  so  Elizabeth  took  her  lot! tress's  ear — "  Our  Father  which  art  In  heaven1' 
upon  her,  smothered  down  her  fears,  and  sat] — to  the  end. 

by  the  bedside  waiting  for  the  least  expression]  After  it  Mrs.  Ascott  lay  very  quiet.  At 
of  returning  reason  in  the  sunken  face,  which  i  length  she  said,  "  Plpase — bring— my — baby." 
was  very  quiet  now.  It  had  been  from  the  first,  and  was  to  the  last, 

Consciousness  did  return  at  last,  as  the  doc-!"  my"  baby. 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


101 


The  small  face  was  laid  close  to  hers  that 
she  might  kiss  it. 

"He  looks  well  :  ,he  does  not  miss  me  much 
yet,  poor  little  fellow  V  Ami  the  strong  nat- 
ural agony  came  upon  her,  conquering  even 
the  weakness  of  her  last  hour.  "  Oh,  it's  hard, 
hard  !  Will  nobody  teach  my  baby  to  remem- 
ber me?" 

And  then  lifting  herself  up  on  her  elbow  she 
caught  hold  of  nurse. 

"  Tell  Mr.  Ascott  that  Elizabeth  is  to  take 
care  of  baby.  Promise,  Elizabeth.  Johanna 
is  old — Hilary  may  be  married;  you  will  take 
i-are  of  my  baby  ?" 

"  I  will — as  long  as  I  live,"  said  Elizabeth 
Hand. 


strong  but  not  exaggerated  grief  at  his  loss  ;  if 
anv  remorse  mingled  therewith,  Selitiflfa 
tera  happily  did  not  know  it.  Nobody  ever 
did  know  the  full  history  of  things  except  Eli- 
zabeth, and  she  kept  it  to  herself.  So  the 
family  skeleton  was  buried  quietly  in  Mrs. 
Ascott's  grave. 

Peter  Ascott  showed,  in  his  coarse  fashion, 
much  sympathy  and  consideration  for  his 
wife's  sisters.  He  had  them  staying  in  the 
house  till  a  week  after  the  funeral  was  over, 
and  provided  them  with  the  deepest  and  hand- 
somest mourning.  He  even,  ia  a  formal  way, 
took  counsel  with  them  as  to  the  carrying  out 
of  Mrs.  Ascott's  wishes,  and  the  retaining  ol 
Elizabeth  in  charge  of  the  son  and  heir,  which 


She  took  the  child  in  her  arms,  and  for  al-;  was  accordingly  settled.  And  then  they  went 
most  another  hour  stood  beside  the  bed  thus,  back  to  their  old  life  at  Richmond,  and  the 
until  nurse  whispered,  "Carry  it  away;  its  widower  returned  to  his  solitary  bachelor  ways, 
mother  doesn't  know  it  now."  He  looked  as  usual;  went  to  and  from  the 

But  she  did;  for  she  feebly  moved  her  fing-  City  as  usual :  and  his  brief  married  life 
ers  as  if  in  search  of  something.  Baby  waslseemed  to  have  passed  away  from  him  like  a 
still  asleep,  but  Elizabeth  contrived,  by  kneel-  dream. 

ing  down  close  to  the  bed,  to  put  the  tiny  hand  Not  altogether  a  dream.  Gradually  he  be- 
under  those  cold  fingers;  they  closed  imme-gan  to  awake  to  the  consciousness  of  an  occa 
diately  upon  it,  and  so  remained  till  the  last,     sional   child's  cry  in  the  house — that  large, 


When  Miss  Leaf  and  Miss  Hilary  came  in, 


silent,  drearv  house,  where  he  was  once  more 


Elizabeth  was  still  kneeling  there,  trying  softly  the  sole,  solitary  master.  Sometimes,  when 
to  take  the  little  hand  away  :  for  the  baby  had  he  came  in  from  church  of  Sundays,  he  would 
wakened  and  began  its  piteous  wail.  But  it 'mount  another  flight  of  stairs,  walk  into  the 
did  not  disturb  the  mother  now.  nursery  at  the  top  of  the  house,  and  stare  with 

"Poor  Selina"  was  no  more.  Nothing  of  distant  curiosity  at  the  little  creature  in  Eliz- 
her  was  left  to  her  child  except  the  name  of  alabeth's  arms,  pronounce  it  a  "fine  child,  and 
mother.     It  may  have  been  better  so.  jdid  her  great  credit!''  and  then  walk  dowu 

;again.     He  never  seemed  to  consider  it  as  his 

! child,  this  poor  old  bachelor  ot  so  many  years'- 

standing;  he  had  outgrown  apparently  all 
I  sense  of  the  affections  or  the  duties  of  a  father. 
Whether  they  ever  would  come  into  him  ; 
whether,  after  babyhood  was  passed,  he  would 
begin  to  take  an  interest  in  the  little  creature 
who  throve  and  blossomedinto  beauty — which, 
as  if  watched  by  guardian  angels,  dead  moth- 
ers' children  often  seem  to  do — was  a  source 
of  earnest  speculation  to  Elizabeth. 

In  the  mean  time  he  treated  both  her  and 
the  baby  with  extreme  consideration,  allowed 
her  to  do  just  as  she  liked,  and  gave  her  in- 
Sccn  was  the  inscription  which  now.  for  six  definite  sums  of  money  to  expend  upon  the 
months,  had  met  the  eyes  of  the  inhabitants! nursery. 

of  Stowbury,  on  a  large,  dazzlingly  white  mar-  When  summer  came,  and  the  doctor  ordered 
ble  monum'ent.  the  first  that  was  placed  in  the  change  of  air,  Mr.  Ascott  consented  tohersug- 
church-yard  of  the  New  Church.  gestion  of  taking  a  lodging  for  herself  and  baby 

What  motive  induced  Mr.  Ascott  to  inter  his  near  baby's  aunts  at  Richmond  ;  only  desir- 
wifehere — whether  it  was  a  natural  wish  to  lay  ing  that  the  lodging  should  be  as  handsome  as 
her,  and  some  day  lay  beside  her,  in  their  na-  could  be  secured,  and  that  every  other  Sunday 
tive  earth  ;  or  the  less  creditable  desire  of  she  should  bring  up  his  son  to  spend  the  day 
showing  how  rich  he  had  become,  and  of  join-  at  Russell  Square. 

ing  his  once  humble  name,  even  on  a  tomb-j  And  so,  during  the  long  summer  month:-, 
stone,  with  one  of  the  oldest  names  in  the! the  motherless  child,  in  its  deep  mourning — 
annals  of  Stowbury — nobody  could  find  out. 'which  looks  so  pathetic  on  a  very  young  baby 
Probably  nobody  cared.  — might  be  seen  carried  about  in  Elizabeth's 


CHAPTER  XX V. 

"rX    MEMORY    OF 

S  B  L I  X  A, 
1  ru.  astovKD  wife  or  peter  as 

OP    7  l  ARE,     LONDON". 

ASH   IiAUGTER   Oi' 

THE      l*TE      H  E  X  R  Y     LEAF.      ESQ 

OF  THIS  TOWN. 

DIED  DECEKBHfe  24,  1839. 

4QBD  41   YEARS." 


Th«  Misses  Leaf  were  content  that  he  should 
do  as  he  pleased  in  the  matter :  he  had  shown 


arms  every  where.     When,  after  the  first  six 
weeks,  the  wet  nurae  left — in  fact,  two  or  three 


102 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


wet  nurses  successively  were  abolished — she 
took  little  Henry  solely  under  her  own  charge. 
She  had  comparatively  small  experience,  but 
she  had  common  sense,  and  the  strong  moth- 
erly instinct  which  comes  by  nature  to  some 
women.  Besides,  her  whole  soul  was  wrap 
ped  up  in  this  little  child. 

From  the  hour  when,  even  with  her  mistress 
dying  before  her  eyes,  Elizabeth  had  felt  a 
strange  thrill  of  comfort  in  thenew  duty  which 
had  come  into  her  blank  life,  she  took  to  this 
duty  as  women  only  cau  whose  life  hds  become 
a  blank.  She  received  the  child  as  a  blessing 
sent  direct  from  God  ;  by  unconscious  hands 
— for  Mrs.  Ascott  knew  nothing  of  what  hap- 
pened: something  that  would  heal  her  wound- 
ed heart,  and  make  her  forget  Tom. 

And  so  it  did.  Women  and  mothers  well 
know  how  engrossing  is  the  care  of  an  infant  : 
bow  each  minute  of  the  day  is  filled  up  with 
something  to  be  done  or  thought  of:  so  that 
"  fretting"  about  extraneous  things  becomes 
quite  impossible.  How  gradually  the  fresh 
life  growing  up  and  expanding  puts  the  worn 
out  or  blighted  life  into  the  back  ground,  and 
all  the  hopes  and  fancies  cling  around  the 
small,  beautiful  present,  the  ever  developing, 
the  ever  marvelous  mystery  of  a  young  child's 
existence !  Why  it  should  be  so,  we  can  only 
guess  ;  but  that  it  is  so,  many  a  wretched  wife, 
many  a  widowed  mother,  many  a  broken 
hearted,  forlorn  aunt,  has  thankfully  proved. 

Elizabeth  proved  it  likewise.  She  did  not 
exactly  lose  all  memory  of  her  trouble,  but  it 
seemed  lighter:  it  was  swallowed  up  in  this 
second  passion  of  adopted  motherhood.  And 
so  she  sank,  quietly  and  at  once,  into  the  con- 
dition of  a  middle  aged  woman,  whose  life's 
story — and  her  sort  of  women  have  but  one — 
was  a  mere  episode,  told  and  ended. 

For  Esther  had  left  and  been  married  to 
Tom  Cliffe  within  a  few  week's  of  Mrs.  As- 
cott's  funeral.  Of  course,  the  household  knew 
every  thing;  but  nobody  condoled  with  Eliza- 
beth. There  was  a  certain  stand-offishness 
about  her  which  made  them  hold  their  tongues. 
They  treated  her  with  much  respect,  as  her 
new  position  demanded.  She  took  this,  as  she 
took  every  thing,  with  the  grave  quietness 
which  was  her  fashion  from  her  youth  up; 
assumed  her  place  as  a  confidential  upper  ser- 
vant ;  dressed  well  but  soberly,  like  a  woman 
of  forty,  and  was  called  "Mrs.  Hand." 

The  only  trace  her  "disappointment"  left 
upon  her  was  a  slightly  hitter  way  of  speak- 
ing about  men  in  general,  and  a  dislike  to  any 
chatter  about  love  affairs  and  matrimony. 
Her  own  story  she  was  never  known  to  refer 
to  in  the  most  distant  way,  except  once. 

Miss  Hilary — who,  of  course,  had  heard  all, 
but  delicately  kept  silence — one  night,  when 
little  Henry  was  not  well,  remained  in  the 
lodgings  on  Richmond  Hill,  and  slept  in  the 
nursery,  Elizabeth  making  up  for  herself  a  bed 


on  the  floor  close  beside  baby  and  cradle.  In 
the  dead  of  night,  the  two  women,  mistress 
and  maid,  by  some  chance,  said  a  few  things 
to  one  another  which  never  might  have  been 
said  in  the  daylight,  and  which,  by  tacit  con- 
sent, were  never  afterward  referred  to  by  eith- 
er, any  more  than  if  they  had  been  spoken  in 
a  dream. 

Elizabeth  told  briefly,  though  not  without 
emotion,  all  that  had  happened  between  her- 
self and  Tom,  and  how  he  was  married  to  Es- 
ther Martin.  And  then  both  women  went 
back,  in  a  moralizing  way,  to  the  days  when 
they  had  both  been  "  young''  at  Stowbury,  and 
how  different  life  was  from  what  they  then 
thought  and  looked  forward  to — Miss  Hilary 
and  her  "  bower  maiden." 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  former  with  a  sigh. 
"things  are  iudeed  not  a9  people  fancy  when 
they  are  girls.  We  dream,  and  dream,  and 
think  we  see  very  far  into  the  future,  which 
nobody  sees  but  God.  I  often  wonder  how  my 
life  will  end." 

Elizabeth  said,  after  a  pause,  "  1  always  felt 
sure  you  would  be  married,  Miss  Hilary. 
There  was  one  person — Is  he  alive  still?  Is 
he  ever  coming  home?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"I  am  sure  he  was  very  fond  of  yon.  And 
he  looked  like  a  good  man." 

"He  was  the  besj.  man  I  ever  knew." 

This  was  all  Miss  Hilary  said,  and  she  said 
it  softly  and  mournfully.  She  might  never 
have  said  it  at  all :  but  it  dropped  from  her 
unawares  in  the  deep  feeling  of  the  moment, 
when  her  heart  was  tender  over  Elizabeth'' 
own  sad.  simply  told  story.  Also  because  of 
a  sudden  and  great  darkness  which  had  come 
over  her  own. 

Literally,  she  did  not  now  know  whether  Ro- 
bert Lyon  were  alive  or  dead.  Twomonthsago 
his  letters  had  suddenly  ceased,  without  any 
explanation,  his  last  being  exactly  the  same  as 
the  others — as  frank,  as  warmly  affectionate, 
as  cheerful  aud  brave. 

One  solution  to  this  was  his  possible  coming 
home.  But  she  did  not,  after  careful  reason- 
ing on  the  subject,  believe  that  likely.  She 
knew  exactly  his  business  relations  with  his; 
employers  ;  that  there  was  a  fixed  time  foi^ 
his  return  to  England,  which  nothing  except 
the  very  strongest  necessity  could  alter.  Even 
in  the  chance  of  his  health  bieaking,  so  as  to 
incapacitate  him  for  work,  he  should,  he  al- 
ways said,  have,  to  go  to  the  hills,  rather  than 
take  the  voyage  home  prematurely.  And  in 
that  case  he  certainly  would  have  informed 
his  friends  of  his  movements.  There  was  no- 
thing erratic,  or  careless,  or  eccentric  about 
Robert  Lyon  ;  he  was  a  practical,  business- 
like Scotchman — far  too  cautious  and  too  reg- 
ular in  all  his  habits  to  be  guilty  of  thflse  ac- 
cidental    negligences    by    which    wanderers  I 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


108 


abroad  sometimes  cause  such  cruel  anxieties 
to  frienda  at  home. 

For  the  same  reason,  the  other  terrible  pos- 
sibility— his  death — was  not  likely  to  have 
happened  without  their  hearing  of  it.  Hilary 
telt  sure,  with  the  strong  confidence  of  love, 
that  he  would  have  taken  every  means  to  leave 
her  some  last  word — some  iirewel!  token — 
which  would  reach*  herafter  he  was  gone,  and 
comfort  her  with  the  assurance  of  what,  living, 
he  had  never  plainly  told.  Sometimes,  when 
a.  wild  terror  of  his  death  seized  her,  this  set- 
tled conviction  drove  it  back  again.  He  must 
be  living,  or  she  would  have  heard. 

There  was  another  interpretation  of  the  si 
lence,  which  many  would  have  considered  the 
most  probable  of  all — 'be  might  be  married. 
Xot  deliberately,  but  suddenly  ;  drawn  into  it 
by  some  of  those  impelling  trains  of  circum- 
stance which  are  the  cause  of  so  many  mar- 
riages, especially  with  men  ;  or,  impelled  by 
one  of  those  violent  passions  which  occasional- 
ize  on  an  exceedingly  good  man,  fascina- 
ting him  against  his  conscience,  reason,  and 
will,  until  he  wakes  up  to  find  himself  fettered 
and  ruined  for  life.  Such  things  do  happen, 
strangely,  pitifully  often.  The  like  might 
have  happened  to  Robert  Lyon. 

Hilary  did  not  actually  believe  it,  but  still 
her  common  sense  told  her  that  it  was  possi- 
ble. She  was  not  an  inexperienced  girl  now: 
she  looked  on  the  world  with  the  eyes  of  a 
woman  of  thirty;  and  though,  thank  Heaven  ! 
the  romance  had  never  gone  out  of  her — the 
faith,  and  trust,  and  tender  love — still  it  had 
sobered  down  a  little.  She  knew  it  was  quite 
within  the  bounds  of  possibility  that  a  young 
man,  separated  from  her  for  seven  years, 
thrown  into  all  kinds  of  circumstances  and 
among  all  sorts  of  people,  should  have  changed 
very  much  in  himself,  and,  consequently,  to- 
ward her.  That,  without  absolute  faithless- 
ness, he  might  suddenly  have  seen  some  other 
woman  he  liked  better,  and  have  married  at 
once.  Or,  if  he  came  back  unmarried — she 
had  taught  herself  to  look  this  probability  also 
steadily  in  the  face — he  might,  find  the  reality 
of  her — Hilary  Leaf — different  from  his  re- 
membrance of  he:  :  and  so,  without  actual 
falseness  to  the  old  true  love,  might  not  love 
her  any  more. 

These  tears  made  her  resolutely  oppose  Jo- 
jpanna's  wish  to  write  to  the  house  of  business 
nt  Liverpool,  and  a«k  what  had  become  of 
|Cr.  Lyon.  Jt  seemed  like  seeking  after  him. 
trying  to  hold  him  by  the  slender  chain  which 
he  had  never  attempted  to  make  any  stronger, 
and  which,  already,  he  mighthave  broken,  or 
desired  to  break. 

She  could  not  do  it.  Something  forbade 
her;  that  something  in  the  inmost  depths  of 
a  woman's  nature  which  makes  her  feel  her 
own  value,  and  exact  that  she  shall  be  sought; 
that,  if  her  love  be  worth  having,  it  is  worth 


seeking  ;  that,  however  dear  a  man  may  be  to 
her,  she  refuses  to  drop  into  his  mouth  like  an 
overripe  peach  from  a  garden  wall.  In  her 
^sharpest  agony  of  anxiety  concerning  him, 
i Hilary  felt  that  she  could  not,  on  her  part, 
itake  any  step  that  seemed  to  compel  love — or 
feven  friendship — from  Robert  Lyon.  It  was  not 
[pride,  she  could  hardly  be  called  a  proud  wo- 
iman  ;  it  was  an  innate  sense  of  the  dignity  of 
'that  love  which,  as  a  free  gift,  is  precious  as 
[rmuch  fine  gold."  yet  becomes  the  merest  dross, 
iutterly'and  insultinc;  poor — when  paid  as  a  debt 
pf  honor,  or  offered  as  a  benevolent  largess. 

And  so,  though  oftentimes  her  heart  felt 
!  breaking,  Hilary  labored  on  ;  sat  the  long  day 
(patiently  at  her  desk;  interested  herself  in  the 
jyoung  people  over  whom  she  ruled  ;  became 
Miss  Balquidder's  right  hand  in  all  sorts  of 
; schemes  which  that  good  woman  was  forever 
carrying  out  for  the  benefit  of  her  fellow-crea- 
jtures;  and  at  leisure  times  occupied  herself 
with  Johanna,  or  with  Elizabeth  and  the  ba- 
5 by,  trying  to  think  it  was  a  very  beautiful  and 
j happy  world,  with  love  still  in  it,  and  a  God 
of  love  ruling  over  it — only,  only — 

Women  are  very  humble  in  their  cruelesi 
j  pride.  Many  a  day  she  felt  as  if  she  could 
| have  crawled  a  hundred  miles  in  the  dust — 
i like  some  Catholic  pilgrim — just  to  get  one 
sight  of  Robert  Lyon. 

Autumn  came — lovely  and  lingering  late. 
It  was  November,  and  yet  the  air  felt  mild  as 
May.  and  the  sunshine  had  that  peculiar  gen- 
jial  brightness  which  autumnal  sunshine  alone 
possesses ;  even  as,  perhaps,  late  happiness 
| has  in  it  a  holy  calm  and  sweetness  which  no 
youthful  ecstasy  can  ever  boast. 

The  day  happened  to  be  Hilary's  birthday. 
(She  had  taken  a  holiday,  which  she,  Johan- 
na, Elizabeth,  and  the  baby,  had  spent  in 
Richmond  Park,  watching  the  rabbits  darting 
[about  under  the  brown  fern,  and  the  deer  gra- 
cing contentedly  hard  by.  They  had  sat  a 
'long  time  under  one  of  the  oak  trees  with 
which  the  Park  abounds,  listening  for  the  sud- 
den drop,  drop  of,,an  occasional  acorn  among 
the  fallen  leaves:  or  making  merry  with  the 
'child,  as  a  healthy,  innocent,  playful  child  al- 
ways can  make  good  women  merry. 

Still,  Master  Henry  was  not  a  remarkable 
'specimen  of  infanthood,  and  had  never  occu- 
pied more  than  his  proper  nepotal  corner  in 
Hilary's  heart.  She  left  him  chiefly  to  Eliz- 
abeth, and  to  his  aunt  Johanna,  in  whom  the 
grandmotherly  character  had  blossomed  out 
linfull  perfection.  And  when  these  two  be- 
came engrossed  in  his  infant  majesty,  Hilary- 
sat  a  little  apart,  unconsciously  folding  her 
her  hands  and  fixing  her  eyes  on  vacancy  : 
[becoming  fearfully  alive  to  the  sharp  truth, 
that  of  all  grj  strong  love  unreturned  or 

unfulfilled  is  the  grief  which  most  blights  a 
woman's  life.  Say.  rather,  any  human  life  ; 
but  it  is  worst  to  a  woman,  because  she  must 


104 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


necessarily  endure  passively.  So  enduring,  it: 
is  very  difficult  to  recognize  the  good  hand  of 
God  therein.  Why  should  He  ordain  longings, 
neither  selfish  nor  unholy,  which  yet  are  nev- 
er granted  ;  tenderness  which  expends  itself 
in  vain  ;  sacrifices  which  are  wholly  unheed-' 
ed  ;  and  sufferings  which  seem  quite  thrown' 
away?  That  is,  if  we  dared  allege  of  any 
thing  in  the  moral  or  in  the  material  world,' 
where  so  much  loveliness,  so  much  love,  ap- 
pear continually  wasted,  that  it  is  really, 
''thrown  away."  We  never  know  through' 
what  divine  mysteries  of  compensation  the 
Great  Father  of  the  universe  may  be  carrying 
out  his  sublime  plan  ;  and  those^hree  words, 
"  God  is  lo,re,"  ought  to  contain,  to  every 
doubting  soul,  the  solution  of  all  things. 

As  Hilary  rose  from  under  the  tree  'there 
was  a  shadow  on  her  sweet  face,  a  listless1 
weariness  in  her  movements,  which  caught ; 
Johanna's  attention.  Johanna  had  been  very  j 
good  to  her  child.  When,  do  what  she  would,  j 
Hilary  could  not  keep  down  fits  of  occasional 
dullness  or  impatience,  it  was  touching  to  see1 
how  this  woman  of  over  sixty  years  slipped  i 
from  her  due  pedestal  of  honor  and  dignity,  to 
be  patient  with  her  younger  sister's  unspoken, 
bitterness  ana  incommunicable  care. 

She  now,  seeing  how  restless  Hilary  was, 
rose  when  she  rose,  put  her  arm  in  hers,  and 
accompanied  her,  speaking  or  silent,  with 
quick  steps  or  slow,  as  she  chose,  across  the 
beautiful  park,  than  which,  perhaps,  all  Eng- 
land cau  not  furnish  a  scene  more  thoroughly  | 
sylvan,  thoroughly  English.  They  rested  oni 
that  high  ground  near  the  gate  of  Pembroke! 
Lodge,  where  the  valley  of  the  Thames  lies; 
spread  out  like  a  map,  stretching  miles  and] 
miles  away  in  luxuriant  greenery. 

"  How  beautiful !  1  wonder  what  a  foreign-' 
ef  would  think  of  thio  view  ?  Or  any  one  whol 
had  been  long  abroad?  How  inexpressibly; 
sweet  and  home-like  it  would  seem  to  him!" 

Hilary  turned  sharply  away,  aud  Johanna 
saw  at  once  what  herwords  had  implied.  She! 
felt  so  sorry,  so  vexed  with  herself;  but  in 
was  best  to  leave  it  alone.  So  they  made  their: 
way  homewarrl,  speaking  of  something  else  ; 
and  then  that  happened  which  Johanna  had 
b^en  almost  daily  expecting  would  happen, 
though  she  dared  not  communicate  her  hopes! 
to  Hilary,  lest  they  might  prove  fallacious. 

The  two  figures",  both  in  deep  mourning,' 
might  have  at  any  one's  attention  :  they1 

naught  that  of  a  ■  who  eras  walking 

quickly  and  looking  afc I  him,  as  if  in  search 

of  something.     B  ed  them  >ta  littl 

tance,  then  repassed,  then  turned,  holding  out 
both  his  hands. 

"  Miss  Leaf:  I  was  sure  it  was  you." 

Only  the  voice;  every  thing  else  about  him 
was  so  changed  that  Hilary  herself  would  cer-; 
tainly  have  passed  him  in  the  street,  that1 
brown,  foreign  looking,  middle  aged  man,  nor! 


recognized  him  as  Robert  Lyon.  But  for  all 
that  it  was  himself;  it  was  Robert  Lyon. 

Nobody  screamed,  nobody  fainted.  People 
seldom  do  that  in  real  life,  even  when  a  friend 
turns  up  suddenly  from  the  other  end  of  the 
world.  They  only  hold  outa  warm  hand,  and 
look  silently  in  one  another's  faces,  and  try  to 
believe  that  all  is  real,  as  these  did. 

Robert  Lyon  shook  hands  with  both  ladies, 
one  after  the  other,  Hilary  last,  then  placed 
himself  between  them. 

"Miss  Leaf,  will  you  take  my  arm?" 

The  tone,  the  manner,  were  so  exactly  like 
himself,  that  in  a  moment  all  these  interven- 
ing years  seemed  crushed  into  an  atom  of  time. 
Hilary  felt  certain,  morally  and  absolutely 
certain,  that,  in  spite  of  all  outward  change, 
fie  was  the  same  Robert  Lyon  who  had  bade 
them  all  good-by  that  Sunday  night  in  the 
parlor  at  Stowbury.  The  same,  even  in  his 
love  for  herself,  though  he  had  simply  drawn 
her  little  hand  under  his  arm,  and  never  spo- 
ken a  single  word. 

Hilary  Leaf,  down,  secretly,  on  ^our  heart's 
lowest  knees,  and  thank  God  !  Repent  of  all 
your  bitterness,  doubts,  and  pains ;  be  joyful, 
be  joyful !  But,  oh,  remember  to  be  so  humble 
withal. 

She  was.  As  she  walked  silently  along  by 
Robert  Lyon's  side,  she  pulled  down  her  veil 
to  hide  the  sweetest,  most  contrite,  mostchild- 
like  tears.  What  did  she  deserve,  more  than 
her  neighbors,  that  she  should  be  so  very,  very 
happy?  And  when,  a  good  distance  across 
the  park,  she  saw  the  dark,  solitary  figure  of 
Elizabeth  carrying  baby,  she  quietly  guided 
her  companions  into  a  different  path,  so  as  to 
avoid  meeting,  lest  the  sight  of  her  happiness 
might  in  any  way,  hurt  poor  Elizabeth. 

"  I  only  landed  last  night  at  Southampton," 
Mr.  Lyon  explained  to  Miss  Leaf,  after  the 
fashion  people  have,  at  such  meetings,  of  fall- 
ing upon  the  most  practical  and  uninteresting 
details.  "  I  came  by  the  Overlaud  Mail.  It 
was  a  sudden  journey.  I  had  scareely  more 
than  a  few  hours'  notice.  The  cause  of  it 
was  some  very  unpleasant  defalcations  in  our 
firm." 

Under  any  other  circumstances  Hilary 
might  have  smiled :  maybe  she  did  ,-tnile. 
and  tease  him  many  a  time  afterward,  because 
the  first  thing  he  could  find  to  talk  about,  af- 
ter seven  years'  absence,  was  "del  me  in 
our  firm.  Bui  no**  erne  listened  gravely,  and 
hy-and-by  took  her  part  in  the  unimportant 
conversation  which  always  occurs  after  such 
a  meeting  as  this. 

"  Were  you  going  home.  Miss  Leaf?  They 
told  me  at  your  house  you  were  expected  to 
dinner.  May  I  come  with  you?  for  I  have 
only  a  lew  hours  to  stay.  To-night  I  must  go 
on  to  Liverpool." 

"  But  we  shall  hope  soon  to  see  you  again  f* 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


105 


"  I  hope  so.  And  I  trust,  Miss  Leaf,  thatjemn  content  came  a  sense  of  the  entire  inde- 
[  do  not  intrude  to-day.''  structibleness  of  that  love  which  through,  all 

He  said  this  with  his  Scotch  slmiess,  orjdecay  or  alteration  traces  the  ideal  image  still, 
pride,  or  whatever  it  was  :  so  like  his  old  .self,  clings  to  it,  and  cherishes  it  with  a  tenacity, 
that  it  made  somebody  *smi1c  !  But  somebody] that  laughs  to  scorn  the  grim  dread  of  "  grow- 
loved  it.     Somebody  lilted  up  to  his  tace  eye6;iug  old." 

of  silent  welcome ;  sweet,  soft,   brown   eye.?,      jn  i>is  premature  and  not  specially  comely 
vhere  never,  since  he  knew  them,  had  he  seen  m,idle  age,  in  his  gray  hairs,  in  the  painful, 


one  cloud  of  anger  daikon,  one  shadow  of  un 
kindness  rise. 

"  This  is  something  worth  coming  Jiome  to," 
and  not  over  lucidly. 


he  said  in  a  low  voice 
Ay,  it  was. 

M  1  am   by  no  means   disinterested  in   the 
matter  of  dinner,  Miss  Leaf;  for  I  have  no 
doubt  of  finding  good  English  roast  beef  andl* 
plum  pudding  on   your  sister's  birth  day. 
Happy  returns  of  the  day,  Miss  Hilary 

She   was   so   touched  by  his  remem 

this,  that,  to  hide  it,  she  put  on  a  spice  u 

•  i      •    l  •  j      i     j  i  •      -,-i  'Characters   alter,  circumstances  divide 

o  d  mischievousness^and  asked  him  i   he  was 


anxious,  half  melancholy  expression  which 
occasionally  flitted  across  his  features,  as  it 
life  had  gone  hard  with  him,  Robert  Lyon  was 
a  thousand  times  dearer  to  her  than  when  the 
world  was  all  before  them  both  in  the  early 
days  at  Stowbury. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  a  seutimentaUnon^ 
sense  talked  about  people  having  been  "young 
together."     Not   necessarily  is  that  a  bond. 


iberini''^an-v  a  l'e  ^orme<^  m  youth  dwindles  away 

pi  Hand  breaks  off  naturatly  in  maturer  years. 

'i Characters  alter,  circumstances  divide.     No 


tiware  how  old  she  was' 

"Yes:  you  are  thirty:  T  have  known  you 
for  fifteen  years." 

'•  It  is  along  time,"  said  Johanna,  thought- 
fully. 

Johanna  would  not  have  been. human  had 
she  not  been  a  Ihtie  thoughtful  and  silent  on 
the  way  home,  and  had  she  not  many  times, 
out  of  the  corners  of  her  eyes,  sharply  investi- 
gated Mr.  Robert  Lyon. 

lie  was  much  altered  :  there  was  no  doubt 
of  that.  Seven  years  of  Indian  life  would 
change  any  body  ;  take  the  youthfulness  out 


one.  will  dare  to  allege  that  there  may  not  be 
loves  and  friendships  formed  in  middle  life  as 
dear,  as  close,  as  firm  as  any  of  those  of  youth ; 
perhaps,  with  some  temperaments,  infinitely 
more  so.  t  But  when  the  two  go  together,  when 
the.calm  election  of  maturity  confirms  the  early 
instinct,  and  the  lives  have  been  parallel,  as  it 
were,  for  many  years,  there  can  be  no  bond 
like  that  of  those  who  say  as  these  two  did, 
"  We  were  young  together." 

He  said  so  when,  after  dinner,  he  came  and 
stood  by  the  window  where  Hilary  was  sitting 
sewing.     Johanna  had  just  gone  out  of  the 


of  any  body.     It  was  so  with  Robert  Lyon.  room  :  whether  intentionally  or  not,  this  his 

Wiien  coming  into  the  parlor  he  removed  his 

hat,  many  a  white  thread  was   visible  in  his 

hair,   and    besides   the   spare,  dried-up   look 

which  is  always  noticeable  in  people  whohave 

lived  long  id  hot  climates,  there  was  an  "old" 

expression    in    hie    face,    indicating   manv    a 


tory  can  not  avouch.  Let  us  give  her  the 
benefit  of  the  doubt ;  she  was  a  generous  wo- 
man. 

During  the  three  hours  that  Mr.  Lyon  bad 

been  with  her,  Hilary's  first  agitation  had  sub- 

ided.    That  exceeding  sense  of  rest  which  she 


worldly  battle  fought  and  won,  but  not  with-! had  always  felt  beside  him — the  sure  index  of 


out  leaving  scars  behind. 

Ever.  Hilary,  as.  she  sat  opposite  to  him,  at 
table,  could  not  but  feel  that  he  was  no  longer 
a  young  man  either  in  appearance  or  reality. 

We  ouvselves  grow  old,  pr  older,  without 
knowing  it,  but  when  .we. suddenly  come  upon 
the  same  fact  in  another  it  startles  us.  Hilary 
had  scarcely  recognized  how  far  she  herself 
.bad  left  her  girlish  days  behind  till  she  saw 
Robert  Lyon.         ' 


people  who,  besides  loving,  are  meant  to  guide 
and  help  and  bless  one  another, — returned  as 
strong  as  ever.  That  deep  affection  which 
should  underlie  all  love  revived  and  clung  to 
him  with  a  chidlike  confidence  strengthening 
at  every  word  he  said,  every  familiar  look  and 
way.  ' 

He  was  by  no  means  so  composed  as  she 
was,  especially  now  when  coming  up  to  her 
side  and  watching  her   hands  moving  for  a 


"  You  think  me  very  much  changed  V  said  minute  or  so,  he  asked  her  to  tell  him,  a  little 
lie.  guessing  by  his  curiously  swift  intuition  of  more  explicitly,  of  what  hid  happened  to  her 
old  what  s"he  Was  thinking  ol\  since  the>  parted. 

'  Yes,  a  good  deal  changed,"  she  answered  "  Things  are  rather  different  from  what  I 
truthfully  :  at  %vhieh  he  was  sileut.  thought:"  and  he  glanced  with  a  troubled  air 

He  could  not  read — perhaps  no  man's  heart  round  the  ueat  but   very    humbly    furnished 
could — all  the  emotion  that  swelled  in  hers  as  parlor.     "And  about  the  shop?" 
she  looked  at  him,  the  love  of  her  youth,  no      "  Johanna  told  you." 

longer  young.     How  the  ghostly  likeness  of!     "Yes;  hut  her  letters  have  been  so  few,  so 
theiormer  face  gleamed  out  under  the  hard   short — not  that  I  could  expect  more.     Still- 
worn  lines  of  the  face  that  now  was  touching  :Duw<  if  you  will  trust  me — tell  me  all." 
her  with  itiefiable tenderness.     Also,  withsol-|     Hilary  turned  to  him,  her  friend  for  fifteen 
N 


106 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


years.  He  was  that  if  he  was  nothing  more. j youth,  captivate  !  by  every  fresh  face  it  sees, 
And  he  had  been  very  true  ;  he  deserved  tobeiputting  upon  ear  ■  ne  the  coloring  of  his  own 
trusted.  She  told  him,  in  brief,  the  history  of  imagination,  ami  adorning  not  what  is,  but 
the  last  year  or  two,  and  then  added  :  [what  itself  creates;  no  sudden,  selfish,  seneu- 

"  But  after  all  it  is  hardly  worth  the  telling, ous  passion,  caring  ofily  to  attain  its  object, 
because,  you  see,  we  are  very  comfortable  now.  irrespective  of  reason,  right,  or  conscience; 
Poor  Ascott,  we  suppose,  must  be  in  Australia,  but  the  strong  deep  love  of  a  just  man,  delib- 
I  earn  enough  to  keep  Johanna  and  myself,  erately  choosing  one  woman  as  the  beat  wo* 
and  Miss  Balquidder  is  a  good  friend  to  us.  man  out  of  all  the  world,  and  setting  himself 
We  have  repaid  her,  and  owe  nobody  any  resolutely  to  win  hor.  Battling  for  her  sake 
thing.  Still,  we  have  suffered  a  great  deal,  with  ail  hard  fortune;  keeping,  for  her  sake; 
Two  years  ago;  oh  !  it  was  a  dreadful  time.''  his  heart  pure  from  all  the  temptations  of  the 
.She  was  hardly  aware  of  it,  but  her  candid  world  ;  never  losing  si  ;ht  of  -her  ;  watching 


tell-tale  face  betrayed   urore   even   than  her 
Awords.     It  cut  Robert  Lyon  to  the  heart. 

"You  suffered,  and  I  never  knew  it." 

"  I  never  meant  you  to  know.". 

"  Why  not?"  He  walked  the  room  in  great 
excitement.  "1  ought  to  have  been  told;  it 
was  cruel  not  to  tell  me.  Suppose  you  had 
sunk  under  it;  suppose  you  had  died, or  been 
driven  to  do  what  many  a  woman  does  for  the 
sake  of  mere  bread  and  a  home — what  your 
poor  sister  did — married.  But 
pardon." 

For  Hilary  had  started  up  with  her  iace  all 
aglow. 

"  No,"  she  cried ;  "  no  poverty  would  have 
sunk  me  as  low  as  that.  1  might  have  starv- 
ed, but  I  should  never  have  married." 

Robert  Lyon   looked  at  her,  evidently  un- 


over  her  so  far  as  he  could,  consistently  with 
the  sense  of  honor  for  masculine  pride — 
which  was  it  .  '  try  forgave  it,  any  how) 

which  made  him  resolutely  compel  himself  to 
silence;  holding  her  perfectly  tree,  while  he 
held  himself  bound.  Bound  by  a  faithfulness 
perfect  as  that  of  the  knights  of  old — asking 
nothing,  and  yet  giving  all. 

Such  was  his  love — this  bra"e,   plain  spo- 
ken,   single  hearted  Scotsman.     Would   that 
beg  your  there  were  more  such  men  and  more  such  love 
[in  the  world  !    • 


Few  women  could  have  resisted  it,  certainly 
not  Hilary,,  especially  with  a  little  secret  of 
her  own  lying  perdu  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart. : 
that  "  sleeping  angel"  whence  half  her  strength 
and  courage  had  come ;  the  noble,  faithful, 
generous  love  of  a  good  woman  for  a  good 
comprehending,  then  said  humbly,  thoughiman.  But  this  secret  Robert  Lyon  had  evi- 
rather  formally,  Idently  never  guessed,  or  deemed  himselfwholly 

"I  beg  your  pardon   once  more.     I  had  no  unworthy  of  such  a  possession, 
right  to  aflude  to  any  thing  of  the  kind."        j    He  took  her  hand  at  last,  and  held  it  firmly. 
Hilary  replied  not.     It  seemed  as  if  now..     "  And  now  that  you  know  all,  do  you  think 


close  together,  they  were  further  apart  than 
when  the  Indian  seas  rolled  between  them. 
Mr,  Lvon's  brown  cheek  turned  paler  and 


in  time — I'll  not  hurry  you — but  in  time,  do 
you  think  I  could  make  you  love  me?" 

She  looked  up  in   his  face  with  her  honest 


paler:  he  pressed  his  lips  hard  together  ;  they  eyes.     Smiling  as  -they  were,  there  was  pathos 
moved  once  or  twice,  but  still  he  did  not  utter 
a  word.     At  last,    with  a  sort  of  desperate 
courage,  and  in  a  lone  that  Hilary  had  never 
heard  from  him  in  her  life,  before,  he  said.: 

"Yes,  I  believe  I  have  a  right,  the  right 
that  every  man  has  when  his  whole  happiness 
depends  upon  it,  to  ask  you  one  question.    You 


know  every  thing  concerning  me;  you  ah 
have  known  :  I  meant  thS.1  you  Bhould— I  have 
taken  the  utmost  care  that  you  should.  There 
is  not  a  bit  of  my  life  that  hasnot  been  as  open 
to  you  as  if — as  if — .  But  I  know  nothing 
whatever  conceding  you." 
.  '■  What  do  you  wish  to  know?"  she  fall 

"Seven  years  is  a  long  time.     Are  you 
J  mean,  are  you  engaged  to  be  married  ?" 

"No." 

"Thank  God!" 

He   dropped  his   head    down   between    his 
hands  and  did  not  speak  for  a  long  time. 

And  then  with  difficulty— for  it  was  always 


in  them  :  the  sadness  left  by  tho.^e  long  years 
of  hidden  Buffering,  now  forever  ended. 

"1  have  loved  you  all  my  life,"  said  Hil- 
ary. 


Let 

happy 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

us  linger  a  little  over  this  chapter  Of 
love:  so  sweet,  so  rare  a  thing.  Aye, 
most  rare  :  though  hundreds  continually  meet, 
love,  or  fancy  they  do.  engage  themselves,  and 
marry  ;  and  hundreds  more  go  through  the 
same  proceeding,  with  the  Blight  difference  of 
the  love  omitted— -Hamlet,  with  the  part  of, 
Hamlet  left  out.  But  the  real  love,  steady  and 
true:  tried  in  the  balance,  and  not  found 
wanting:  tested  by  time,  silence,  separation  : 
by  good  and  ill  fortune:  by  the  natural  and 
inevitable  change  which  years  make  in  every 


hard  to  him  to  speakput — he  tokTher,  at  least  character— this  is  the  rarest  thing  to  be  found 
he  somehow  made  her  tmderstand,   how  he  on  earthj  and  the  most  precious. 

.,  I   loved  her.     Xo  light  fancy  of  eentimenlalj     I  do  not  say  that  all  love  is  worthless  which 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


1(17 


is  not  exactly  ibis  BOit  61  love.  There  have 
been  people  who  have  succumbed  instantly  and 
permanently  to  some  mysterious  attraction, 
higher  than  all  reasoning;  the  same  which 
made  Hilary  "take  an  interest"  in  Robert 
Lyon'.-  lace  at  chnrch,  and  made  him,  he  af- 
terward confessed,  the  very  first  time  he  gave 
Ascot t  a  lesson  in  the  parlor  at  Stowbury,  say 
to  himself,  "  If  1  did  marry,   1  think  \  should 


like  such  a  wile  as  that  brown-eyed  hit  lassie."  house." 


Robert  Lyon  was,  a9  I  have  said,  a  good 
deal  changed,  outwardly  and  inwardly.  He 
had  mixed  much  in  society,  taken  an  excel- 
lent position  therein,  and  this  had  given  him 
hot  only  a  more  polished  manner,  but  an  air 
of  decision  and  command,  as  of  one  used  to  be 
obeyed.  There  could  not  be  the  slightest 
doubt,  as  .lohannaonce  laughingly  told  him, 
that  he  would  always  be  "master  in  his  own 


And  there  have  been  other  people,  who  choos 
ing  their  partners  from  accidental  circumstan- 
ces, *r  from  mean  worldly  motives,  have 
found  Providence  kinder  to  them  than  they 
deserved,  and  settled  down  into  happy,  atl'ec- 
tionate  husbands  and  wives. 

But  none  of  these  loves  can  possibly  have 
the  sweetness,  the  completeness  of  such  a  love 
as  that  between  Hilary  Leaf  and  Robert 
Lyon. 

There  was  nothing  very  romantic  about  it. 
From  the  moment  when  Johanna  entered  the 
parlor,  found  them  standing  hand-in-hand  at 
the   fireside,   and  Hilary   came  forward  and 


But  he  was  very  gentle  with  hia  "  little  wo- 
man" as  he  called  her.  He  would  sit  for  hours 
at  the  "  ingle-neuk" — how  he  did  luxuriate  in 
the  English  fires! — with  Hilary  on  a  footstool 
beside  him,  her  arm  resting  on  his  knee,  or 
her  hand  fast  clasped  in  his.  And  sometimes, 
when  Johanna  went  outof  the  room,  he  would 
stoop  and  gather  her  close  to  his  heart.  But 
I  shall  tell  no  tales;  the  world  has  no  business 
with  these  sort  of  things. 

Hilary  was  very  shy  of  parading  her  happi- 
ness ;  she  disliked  any  demonstrations  thereof, 
even  before  Johanna.  And  when  Miss  Bal- 
quidder,  who  had,  of  course,  been  told  of  the 


kissed  her.  and  after  aslight  hesitation  Robert  engagement,  came  down  one  day  expressly  to 
did  thesame,  the  affair  proceeded  in  most  mill-;  see  her  "  fortunate  fellow  countryman,  this 
pond  fashiou :  |Machavelian  little  woman  actually  persuaded 

her  lover  to  have  an  important  engagement  in 

London!      She  could,  not    bear   him   to  be 

"  looked  at." 

"  Ah,  well,  ,you  must  leave  me,  and  I  will 

miss    you  terribly,    my  deai,"  said  the  old 


•■  Unrvfflsd  by  those  cabmen  and  breaks, 
Tliat  humor  interposed  too  often  makes.-; 

There  were  no  lovers'  quarrels  ;  Robert  Ly- 
on bad  chosen  that  best  blessing  next  to  a 
good  woman,  a  sweet  tempered  woman  :  and 


there  was  no  reason  why  they  should  quarrel  Scotchwoman.    But  it's  an  ill  wind  that  blows 
more  as  lovers  than  they  bad  done  as  friends,  nobody  good,  and  I  have  another  young  lady 
And,  let  it  be  stid  to  theeternal  honor  of  both,1  quite  "ready  to  step  into  your  shoes.     When 
now,  no  more  than  in  their  friendship  days, ishall  you  be   married?" 
was  there  any  of  that  hungry  engrossment  of 
each*  other's  society,  which  is  only  another 
torm  of  selfishness,  and   by    which  lovers  so 


often  make  their  own  happy  courting  time  a 
season  of  never-to-be-forgotten  bitterness  to 
every  body  connected  with  them. 

Johanna   suffered   a  little  :  all    people  do 
when  the  new  rishts  clash  with  the  old  oues ;[? 


"I  don't  know— hush :  we'll  talk  another 
time,"  said  Hilary,  glancing  at  Johanna. 


Miss  Balquidder  took  the  hint  and  was  si- 
lent.r 

That  important  question  was  indeed  begin- 
ning to  weigh  heavily  on  Hilary's  mind.  She 
•was  fally  aware  of  what  Mr.  Lyon  wished,  and 


^'  indeed,  expected 


:  that  when,  the  business  Of 
but  she  rarely  betrayed  it     She  was  exceed-  ^    K  ^  >  hen(je ^ 

ingly  good  :  she  saw  her  child  happy,  and  she  ^^  ^  ^  he'should  nQt  return  alone. 

rr;i     -  When  he  said  this,  she  had  never  dared  to 

nlu." L^om,v.      1,«^1..     .^n    tr.    fhin\r        Kholet.   the 


loved   Robert  Lvon    dearlv.     He   was    very 

mindful  of  her,  very  tender;  and  as    Hilary,       ^       h  e  Q .  fe      gh    j      the 

Btill  persisted  in  doing  her  di  ,lj  . luty  m  t  ie ■  «J   «•     ;  sent  float  on,  dav  bv  day,  without 

shop,  he  spent  more  o.    r.    in  lie  with  theelder  ^a^      J  »      -      •  .     - 

sister  than  he  did   with    the   younger,   and  recognizing  suck  a  thing  as  the  future, 
sometimes  declared  polemnly  that  if  Hilary!     But  this  could  not  be  always.     It  came  to 
did  not  treat  him  wek  he  intended  to  make  an  an  end  one  January  atternoo^  when  he  had 
offer  lo  Johanna  !  returned  from  a  second  absence  in  Liverpool. 

1  Oh,  the  innumerable  little  jokes  of  those  They  were  walking  up  Richmond  Hill.  The 
happvdavs!  Oh,  the  long,  quiet  walks  by  sun  had  set  frostily  and  red  over  the  silver 
the  river  side,  through  the  park,  across  Hamjcurve  of  the  Thames,  and  Venus,  large  and 


Common— any  where— it  did  not  matter;  the  bright,  was  shining  like  a  great  eye  in  the 
whole  world  looked  lovely,  even  on  the  dull-' western  sky.  Hilary  long  remembered exact- 
est  winter  day!  Oh,  the  endless  talks;  the  ly  how  every  thing  looked,  even  to  the  very 
renewed  miDgling  of  two  lives,  which",  though  tree  they  stood  under,  when  Robert  Lyouask- 
divided,  had  never  been  really  apart,  for  neith-  ed  her  to  fix  definitely  the  day  that  she  would 


er  had  any  thing  to  conceal ;  neitherhad  ever 
loved  any  but  the  other. 


marry  him. 
Would  she  consent— there  seemed  no  spec- 


108 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


ial  reason  to  the  contrary — that  it  should  be  was  only  a  man,  no!  au  angel :  and  though  he 
immediately?  Or  would  she  like  to  remain  made  comparativt?ly  little  show  of  it,  he  was  a 
with  Johanna  as  she  was,  till  just  before  they  man  very  deeply  in  love.  With  that  jealous 
sailed?  He  wished  to  be  as  good  as  possible  tenacity  over  his  treasure,  hardly  blamable. 
to  Johanna — still — "  since  the  lo\e  is  worth  little  which"  does  not 

And  something  in  his  manner  impressed  wish  to  have  its  object  "all  to  itself."  he  had,  1 
Hilary  more  than  ever  before  with  theconvic-  am  afraid,  contemplated  not  Without  pleasure 
tion  of  all  she  was  to  him:  likewise,  all  he  the  carrying  off  of  Hilary  to  his  Indian  home; 
was  to  her.  More,  much  more  than  even  a  and  it  had  cost  him  something  to  propose  that 
few  short  weeks  since.  Then,  intense  as  it  Johanna  should  go  too.  He  was  very  fond  of 
was,' the  love  had  a  dream  like  unreality  ;  now  Johanoa  :  still — 

it  was  close,  home-like,  familiar.  Instinctive-  If  I  tell  what  followed  will  it  forever  lower 
ly  she  clung  to  his  arm  ;  she  had  become  so  Robert  Lyon  in  the  estimation  of  all  readers  ? 
used  to  being  Robert's  darling  now.  She  He  said,  coldly,  "  As  you  please,  Hilary  ;" 
shivered  as  she  thought  of  the  wide  seas  roll-  rose  up,  and  never  spoke  another  word  till 
ing   between   them  :  of  the   time   when  she  they  reached  home. 

should   look   for  him  at  the  daily  meal  and      Tt  was  the  first  dull  tea  table  they  had  ever 

daily  fireside,  and  find  him  no  more.  .known  ;  the  first  time  Hilar/  had  ever  looked 

"  Robert,  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  Jo-  at  that  dear  face,  and  seen  an  expression  there 

hanna."  .  which  made  her  look  away  again.     He  did 

"I  guess   what  it  is,"   said  he,  smiling ;  not  sulk:  he  was  too  gentlemanly  for  that: 

"  you  would  like  her  to  go  out  to  India  with.he  even  exerted  himself  to  make  the  meal  pass 

us.     Certainly,  if  she  chooses.     I  hope  you  pleasantly   as   usual:  but  he   was  evidently 

did  not  suppose  I  should  object."  deeply  wounded  ;  nay,  more,  displeased.    The 

"  No;  but  it  is  not  that.     She  would  not  live  strong,  stern    man's   nature  within  him  had' 

six  months  in  a  hot  climate  :  the  doctor  tells  rebelled;  the  sweetness  had  gone  out  of  his 

me  so."  face,  and  something  had  come  into  it  which 

"  You  consulted  him  ?"  the  very  best  ofmen  have  sometimes  :  alas  for 

"Yes,  confidentially,  without  her  knowing  the  woman  who  cannot  understand  and  put  up 

it.    But  I  thought  it  right.,    I  wanted  to  make  with  it !  • 

quite  sure  before — before —     Oh,  Robert.,'  I  am  not  going  to  preach  the  doctrine  ofty- 

The  grief  of  her  tone  caused  him  to  suspect  rants  and  slaves  ;  but  when  two  walk  together 

what  was  coming.     He  started.  they  must  be  agreed,  or  if  by  any  chance  they 

"  You  don't  mean  that  ?     Oh  no,  you  can  are  not  agreed,  one  must  yield.     It  may  not 

not !     My  little  woman,  my  own  little  woman  always  be  the  weaker,  or  ir?  v#akness  may  lie 

— she  could  not  be  so  unkind."  the  chiefest  strength  :  but  it  must  be  one  or 

Hilary  turned  eick  at  heart.    The  dim  land-other  of  the  two  who  has  to  be  the  first  to 

scape,  the  bright  sky,  seemed  to  mingle  and  give  way  :  and,  save  in  very  exceptional  cases, 

dance  before  her,  and  Venns  to  stare  at  her,it  is,  and  it  ought  to  be,  the  woman.     God's 

with  a  piercing,  threatening,  baleful  lustre,      law  and  nature's,  which  is  also  God's,  ordains 

"Robert,   let  me  sit  down  on  the  bench, jthis;  instinct  teaches  it :  Christianity  enforces 

and  sit  you  beside  me.    It  is  too  dark  for  it. 

people  to  notice  us,  and  we  shall  not  be  verv      Will  it  inflict  a  death  blow  upon  any  admi- 
cold."  ration  she  may  have  excited,  this  brave  little 

"  No,  my  darling  ;"  and  he  slipped  his  plaid  Hilary,  who  fought  through  the  world  by  her- 
round  her  shoulders,  and  his  arm  with  it.  self;  who  did  not  shrink  from  traversing  Lon- 
She  looked  up  pitifully.  "  Don't  be  vexed  don  streets  alone  at  seemly  and  unseemly 
with  me,  Robert,  dear;  I  liave  thought  it  all  hours:  from  going  into  sponging  houses  and 
over:  weighed  it  on  every  side  ;  nigkts  and  debtor's  prisons  :  from  earning  her  own  liveli- 
nights  I  have  been  awake  pondering  what  was  hood,  even  in  a  shop — if  I  confess  that  Robert 
right  to  do.  And  it  always  comes  to  the  same  Lyon,  being  angry  with  her,  justly  or  unjustly, 
thing."  and  she,  looking  upon  him  as  her  future  hus- 


"  What  ?" 

"  It's  the  old  story,"  she 


band,   her    "  lord   and   master"  if  you  will. 


answered  with  a' whom  she  would  one  day  promise,  and  intend- 
feeble  smile.  '"I  canna  leave  my  minnie.' ed,  literally  "to  obey" — she  thought  it  her 
There  is  nobody  in  the  world  to  take  care  of  duty,  not  only  her  pleasure  but  her  duty,  to  be 
Johanna  but  me,  not  even  Elizabeth,  who  is  the  first  to  make  reconciliation  between  them? 
engrossed  in  little  Henry.  If  I  left  her,  I  am  ay,  and  at  every  sacrifice,  except  that  of  prin- 
sure  it  would  kill  her.     And  she  can  not  come  ciple. 

with  me.  Dear!"  (the  only  fond  name  she  And  lam  afraid,  in  spite  of  all  that  "strong- 
ever  called  him)  "for  these  three  years — you  minded"  women  may  preach  to  the  contrary, 
say  it  need  only  be  three  years — you  will  haye  that  all  good  women  will  have  to  do  this  to  all 
to  go  back  to  India  alone."  men  who  stand  in  any  close  relation  toward 

Robert  Lyon  was  a  very  good  man  ;  but  hejthem,  whether  fathers,  husbands,  brothers,  or 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


109 


lovers,  if  they  wish  to  preserve  peace,  and 
love,  and  holy  domestic  influence  ;  and  that 
so  it  must  tie  to  the  end  of  time. 

Miss  Leaf  might  have  discovered  that  some- 
thing was  amiss:  but  she  was  too  wise  to  take 
any  notice,  and  being  more  than  usually  feeble 
that  day.  immediately  after  tea  she  went  to  lie| 
down.  When  Hilary  followed  her,  arranged, 
her  pillows,  and  covered  her  up,  Johanna  drew 
her  child's  face  close  to  her  and  whispered, 

"  That  will  do,  love.  Don't  stay  with  me. 
I  would  not  keep  you  from  Robert  on  any  ac- 
count." 

Hilary  all  but  broke  down;  and  yet  the 
words  made  her  stronger,  firmer:  set  more 
clearly  before  her  the  solemn  duty  which 
young  tolks  in  love  are  so  apt  to  forget,  that 
there  can  be  no  bles'sing  on  the  new  tie,  if  for 
any  thing  short  of  inevitable  necessity  they  let 
go  one  link  of  the  old. 

Yet,  .Robert —  It  was  such  a  new  and  dread- 
ful feeling  to  be  standing  outside  the  door  and 
shrink  from  going  in  to  him;  to  see  him  rise 
up  formally,  saying,  "  Perhaps  he  had  better 
leave  ;  and  have  to  answer  with  equal  form-! 
,ality,  '"  Not  unless  you  are  obliged  :"  and  for 
him  then,  with  a  shallow  pretence  of  being  at; 
ease,  to  take  up  a  book  and  offer  to  read. aloud 
to  her  while  she  worked.  He — who  used  al-| 
ways  to  set  his  face  strongly  against  alLsew-j 
ing  of  evenings — because  it  deprived  him  tern-; 
porarily  of  the  6weet  eyes,  and  the  little  soft1 
hand.     Oh,  it  was  hard,  hard ! 

Nevertheless,  she  sat  still  and  tried  to  listen  ; 
but  the  words  went  in  at  one  ear  and.  out  at 
the  other;  she  retained  nothing,  By-and-by' 
her  throat  began  to  swell,  and  she  could  not 
see  her  needle  and  thread.  Yet  still  he  went 
op  reading.  It  was  only  when,  by  some  bless- 
ed chance,  turning  to  reach  a  paper  cutter,  he 
caught  sight  of  her,  that  he  closed  the  book* 
and  looked  discomposed ;  not  softened,  only 
discomposed. 

Who  shall  be  first  to  speak  ?  Who  shall 
catch  the  passing  angel's  wing?  One  minute, 
and  it  may  have  passed  over. 

I  am  not  apologizing  for  Hilary  the  least  in 
the  world.  I  do  not  know  even  if  she  consid- 
ered whether  it  was  her  place  or  Robert's  to 
make  the  first  advance.  Indeed,  I  fear  she  did 
not  consider  it  at  all,  but  just  acted  upon  im- 
pulse, because  it  was  so  cruel,  so  heart  break- 
ing, to  be  at  variance  with  him.  But  if  she 
had  considered  it  I  doubt  not  she  would  have 
done  from  duty  exactly  what  she  did  by  in- 
stinct— crept  up  to  him  as  he  sat  at  the  fire- 
side, and  laid  her  little  hand  on  his. 

"  Robert,  what  makes  you  eo  angry  with  me 
still?" 

"  Not  angry  ;  I  have  no  right  to  be." 

"  Yes,  you  would  have  if  I  had  really  done 
wrong.     Have  I  ?" 

"  You  must  judge  for  yourself.    For  me — 


1  thought  you  loved  me  better  than  I  find  you 
do,  anil  I  made  a  mistake  :  that  is  all." 

Ay,  he  had  made  a  mistake,  but  it  was  not 
that  one.  It  was  the  other  mistake  that  men 
continually  make  about  womerr:  they  can  not 
understand  that  love  is  not  worth  having,  that 
it  is  not  love  at  aW,  but  merely  a  selfish  car- 
rying out  of.  selfish  desires,  if  it  blinds  us  to 
any  other  duty,  or  blunts  in  us  any  other  sa- 
cred tenderness.  They  can  not  see  how  she 
who  is  false  in  one  relation  may  be  false  in 
another ;  and  that,  true  as  human  nature's 
truth,  ay,  and  often  fulfilling  itself,  is  Braban- 
tio's  ominous  warning  to  Othello — 

a  Look  to  her,  Moor !  have  a  good  eye  to  Bee : 
She  has  deceived  her  father,  and  may  thee." 

Perhaps  as  soon  as  he  had  said  the  bitter 
word  Mr.  Lyon  was  sorry,  any  how,  the  soft 
answer  which  followed  it  thrilled  through  ev- 
ery nerve  of  the  strong  willed  man — a  man  not 
easily  made  angry,  but  when  he  was,  very 
hard  to  move. 

"  Robert,  wil  you  listen  to  me  for  two  min- 
utes ?" 

"  For  as  long  as  you  like,  only  you  must 
not  expect  me  to  agree  with  you.  You  can 
not  suppose  I  shall  say  it  is  right  for  you  to 
forsake  me." 

"  I  forsake  you  ?    Oh,  Robert !" 

Words  are  not  always  the  wisest-argument.-. 
His  "  little  woman"  crept  closer,  and  laid  her 
head  on  his  breast:  he  clasped  convulsively. 

"  Oh,  Hilary,  how  could  vou  wound  me. 
so?" 

And  in  lieu  of  the  discussion,  a  long  silence 
brooded  over  the  fireside — the  silence  of  ex- 
ceeding l&ve.  *    # 

"  Now,  Robert,  may  I  talk  to  you  ?" 

"Yes.    Preach  away,  my  little  conscience.'' 

"  It  shall  not  be  preaching,  and  it  is  not  al- 
together for  conscience,"  said  she.  smiling. 
"  You  would  not  like  me  to  tell  you  I  did  not 
love  Johanna?" 

"Certainly  not.  I  love  her  very  much  my- 
self, only  I  prefer  you,  as  is  natural.  Appar- 
ently you  do  not  prefer  me,  which  may  also  be 
natural." 

"  Robert '." 

There  are  times  when  a  laugh  is  better  than 
a  reproach  ;  and  something  else,  which  need 
not  be  more  particularly  explained,  is  safer 
than  either.  It  is  possible  Hilary  tried  thf 
experiment,  and  then  resumed  her  "  say." 

"  Now,  Robert  put  yourself  in  my  place,  and 
try  to  think  for  me.  I  have  been  Johanna's 
child  for  thirty  years;  she  is  entirely  depend- 
ent upon  me.  Her  health  is  feeble  :  every 
year  of  her  life  is  at  least  doubtful.  If  she  lo.st 
me  I  think  she  would  never  live  out  the  next 
three  years.     You  would  not  like  that  ?" 

"No." 

"  In  all  divided  duties  like  this  somebody 
must  suffer;  the  question  is,  which  can  suffer 


110 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


best?  She  is  old  and  frail,  we  are  young  :  she  take  out  of  the  brief  span  of  mortal  life,  and, 
is  alone,  we  are  two  ;  sbe  never  bad  any  hap-  therefore,  bow  far  they  are  justifiable,  for  am 
piness  in  her  life,  except,  perhaps  me:  and  we' thing  short  of  absolute  necessity,  Heaven 
— oh  how  happy  we  are  !     I  think,  Robert,  it  knows. 

would  be  better  for  us  to  suffer  than  poor  Jo-'  In  this  case  it  was  an  absolutely  necessity, 
hanna^"  Robert  Lyon's  position  in  "our  firm,"  with 

"  You' little Jesuit,"  he  said  :  but  the  higher  which  he  identified  himself  with  the  natural 
nature  of  the  man  was  roused.;  he  was  nolpride  of  a  man  who  has  diligently  worked  his 
longer  angry.  way  up  to  fortune,  was  such  that  he  could  not, 

"  It  is  only  for  a  short  time,  remember —  without  sacrificing  his  future  prospects,  and 
only  three  years."  likewise  what  he  felt  to'be  a  point  of  honor. 

"And  how  can  I  do  without  you  for  three  refuse  to  go  back  to  Bombay  until  such  time 
years?"  .     as  his  senior  partner's  son,  the  young,  fellow 

"  Yes,  Eobert,  you  can."  And  she  put  her  whom  he  had  "  coached"  in  Hindostanee,  and 
arms  round  his  neck,  and  looked  at  him,  eye  to  nursed  through  a  fever  years  ago,  could  con- 
eve.  "You  know  1  am*  your  very  own,  apiece  veniently  take  his  place  abroad. 
of  yourself,  as  it  were  :  that  when  I  let  you  goj  «  of  course,"  he  said,  explaining  this  to  Hil- 
it  is  like  tearing  myself  from  myself;  yet  I  arv  an(j  ber  sister,  "  accidental  circumstances 
can  bear  it,  rather  than  do,  or  let  you  do,  mimight  occur  to  cause  my  return  home  before* 
the  smallest  degree,  a  thing  which  is  not  tue- three  years  were  out,  but  the  act  must  be 
right."  •  none  of  mine:  I  must  do  my  duty." 

Robert  Lyon  was  not  a  man  of  many  words  ;      „  y  mn     „  answered  ffij         with  a 

but  he  had  the  rare  faculty  of  seeing  a  easel  learn  lighting  up  her  eyes.  She  ]o^d  P0  iu 
clearly,  without  reference  to  himself,  and  of  bVlhiff  one  great  principle  of  his  life-the 
putting  it  clearly  also  when  necessary  back-bone  of  it,  as  it  were-duty  before  all 

•  "  It  seems  to  me,  Hilarv,  that  this  is  hardlv  .u:^^ 
a  matter  of  abstract  right  or  wrong  or  a  good      Johanna  asked  n0  questions.    Once  she  had 
deal  migbtbe  argued  on  my  side  ot  the  subject.  iBquired  with  a  tremulous,  hardlv  .concealed 
ft  is  moie  a  case  of  personal  conscience,    fhe  a]  whether  Robert  wished  to  take  Hilarv 

!T°_"e_"0tu!.YT.:    u'lt  aLti°U?wu!-V„™;bacl5  with  him,  and   Hilary  had  kissed  her, 

smilingly,  saying,  "No,  that  was  impossible." 
Afterward  the  subject  was  never  revived. 

And  so  these  two  lovers,  both  stern  iu  what 


but  thev   both  come  to  the  same 


so  at  first 
result." 

"  And  that  is- 

<*  If  mv  little  woman  thinks  it  right  to  act 
as  she  does,  I  also  think  it  right  to  let  her.  the>'  thought  their  duty,  went  on  silently  to- 
And  let  this  be  the  law  of  our  married  life,  if  §ether  t0  the  last  aaJ  oi  Parting. 
we  ever  are  married,"  and  he  sighed,  "  that  It  ^aa  almost  as  }uiet  a  day  as  that  never- 
w/len  we  differ  each  should  respect  the  other's  to-be-forgotten  Sunday  at  Stowbury.  They 
conscience,  and  do  right  in  the  truest  sense,]  went  a  long  walk  together,  in  the  course  ot 
by  allowing  the  othtT  to  do  the  same."  which  Mr.  Lyon  forced  her  to  agree  to  what 

"Oh   Robert!  how  wood  you  are."  hitherto  she  had  steadfastly  resisted   that  she 

So  these  two,  an  hour  after,  met  Johanna^and  Johauua  should  accept  from  In. a  enongh; 
with  cheerful  faces  :  and  she  never  knew  how  in  addition  to  their  own  fifty  pounds  a  year,  to 
much  bQth  had  sacrificed  for  her  sake.  Once  enable  them  to  live  comfortably  without  her 
only,  when  she  was  for  a  few  minutes  absent  working  any  more. 

from  the  parlor,  did  Robert  Lyon  renew  the      "  Are  you  ashamed  of  my  working?"  she 
subject,  to  suggest  a  medium  course.  |asked,  with  something  between  a  tear  and  a 

But  Hilarv  resolutely  refused.  !Not  that  smile.  "Sometimes  J  used  to  be  afraid  you 
she  doubted  'him— she  doubted  herself.  She  would  thiuk  the  lefs  of  me  because  circum- 
kuew  quite  well  by  the  pang  that  darted  stances  made  me  an  independent  woman,  earn- 
through  her  like  a  shaft  of  ice,  as  she  felt  bis  ing  my  own  bread.  Do  you  ?" 
warm'arm  round  her,  and  thought  of  the  time  "  My  darling,  no.  I  am  proud  of  her.  But 
when  she  would  feel  it  no  more,  that,  after, she  must  never  work  any  more,  .lohanna 
she  had  been  Robert  Lyon's  happy  wife  for WB  right;  it  is  a  man's  place,  and  not  a  wo- 
three  months,  to  let  him  go  to  India  without  man's.  I  will  not  allow  it." 
her  would  be  simply  and  utterly  impossible.         When  he  spoke  iu  that  tone  Hilary  always 

Fast  fled  «the  months;  they  dwindled  into  submitted, 
weeks,  and  then  into  days.  I  shall  not  enlarge  He  told  her  another  thing  while  arranging 
upon  this  time.  Now,"  when  the  ends  of  the  with  her  all  the  business  part  of  their  con- 
world  have  been  drawn  together,  and  everv Icerns,  and  to  reconcile  her  to  this  partial  de- 
famil  v  has  one  or  more  relatives  abroad,  a  grief  dependence  upon  him,  which,  he  urged,  was 
like  Hilary's  has  become  so  common  thatjonly  forestalling  his  rights  ;  that  before  he  first 
nearly  every  one  can,  in  degree,  understand  it.  quitted  England.^even  years  ago,  he  had  made 
How  "bitter 'such  partings  are,  bow  much  thev[his  will,  leaving  her,  if  still  unmarried,  hia 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


Ill 


Hole  heir  and  legatee,  indeed  in'  exactly  the!  The  night  after  Robert  Lyon  left,  Hilary 
position  that  she  would  have  been  bad  she'and  Johanna  were  sitting  together  in  their  par- 
been  his  wife.  »    '{lor.    'Hilary  had  been  writing  a  long  lettei  to 

"This  will  exists  still  ;  so  that  in  any  pose  Miss   Balquidder,  explaining  that  she  would 


you  a^>  safe.     No  further   poverty   can  ever 
befall  my  Hilary." 

His — his  own — Robert  Lyon's  own.     Her 

sense  of  this  was  so,  strong  that  it  took  away 

I  lie  sharpness  of  the  parting,  made  her  feel,  up 

■  to  the  very  last  minute,   when   she  clung  to 

him — was  pressed  close  to  him — heart  to  heart 


now  give  up  in  favor  of  the  other  young  lady, 
or  any  other  of  the  many  to  whom  it  would 
be  a  blessing,  her  position  'in  the  shop  ;  but 
that  she  hoped'Still  to  help  her — Miss  Bal- 
quidder— in  any  way  she  could  point  out  that 
would  be  useful  toothers.  %She  wished,  in  her 
humble  way,  as  a  sort  of  thank  ottering  from 


and  lip  to  lip — for  a  space  that  seemed  half  a  one  who  had  passed  through  the  waves  and. 
life-time  of  mixed  anguish  and  joy— thai  he | been  landed  safe  ashore,  to  help  those  who 
was  notieallv  going:  that  somehow  or  other,  |  were  still  struggling,  as  she  herself  had  strug- 
nextdavor  next  week  he  would  be  back  again, gled  once.  She  desired,  as  far  as  in  her  lay, 
as  in  his  frequent  re-appearances,  exactly  as  to  be  Miss  Balquidder's  "right hand"  till  Mr. 


ippearances 
before. 

When  be  was  really  gone — when,  as  shesat 
with  her  trarlcs^eyes  fixed  on  the  closeddoor 
— Johanna  softly  touched  her,  saying,  "  My 
child  !"  then  Hilary  learned  it  all. 

The  next  twenty-four  hours  will  hardly 
bear  being  writen  about.  Most  people  know 
what  it  i.  to  miss  the  face  out  of  the  house — 
the  life  out  of  the  heart.  To  come  and  go,  to 
cat  and  drink,  to  lie  down  and  rise,  and  find 
all  things  the  same,  and  gradually  to  recognize 
that  it  must  be  the  same,  indefinitely,  perhaps 


Lyon  came  home. 

This  letter  she  read  alouef  to  Johanna, 
whose  failing  eye  sight  refused  all  candlelight, 
occupation,  and  then  came  and  sat  beside  her 
in  silence.  She  felt  terribly  worn  and  weary, 
but  she  was  very  quiet  now. 

"We  must  go  to  bed  early,"  was  all  she 
s'aid'. 

"Yes,  my  child." 

And  Johanna  smoothed  her  hair  in  the  old, 
fond  way,  making'no  attempt  to  console  her, 
but  only  to  love  h£r — always  the   safest  con- 


al  wavs.  To  be  met  continually  bv  small  tri-  elation.  And  Hilary  was  thankful  that  nev- 
er, even  in  her  sharpest  agonies  of  grief,  had 
she  betrayed  that  secret  which  would  have 
made  her  sister's  life  miserable,  have  blotted 
out  the  thirty  years  of  motherly  love,  and 
caused  the  other  love  to  rise  up  like*a  cloud 


lies — a  dropped  glove,  a  book,  a  scrap  of 
handwriting  that  yesterday  would  have  been 
thrown  into  the  fire,  but  to-daVj  is  picked  up 
aud  kept  as  a  relic:  and  at  times,  bursting 
'  through  the  quietness  which  must  be  gained, 
or  at  least  assumed,  the  cruel  crafving  for  one 
word  more — one  kiss  more — for  only  one  five 
minutes  of  the  eternally  ended-yesterday  ! 

All  this  hundreds  have  gone  through  ;  so 
did  Hilary.  She  said  afterward  it  was  good 
for  her  that  she  did;  it  would  make  her  feel 
for  others  in  a  way  she  had  never  felt  before. 
Also,  because  it  taught  her  that  such  a  heart- 
break can  be  borne  and  lived  through  when 
help  is  sought  where  only  real  help  can  be 
found  ;  and  where,  when  reason  fails,  and 
those  who,  striving  to  do  right  irrespective  of 
the  consequences,  cry  out  against  their  tor- 
ments, and  wonder  why  they  should  be  made 
so  to  sntt'er,  childlike  faith  comes  to  their  res- 
cue. For,  let  us  have  all  the  philosophy  at 
our  fingers'  ends,  what  are  we  but  children? 
We  know  not  what  a  day  may  bring  forth. 
All  wisdom  resolves  itself  into  the  simple 
hvntn    which    we    learned    when    we    were 


mnLT ; 


"D  vp  in  unfathomable  mines 

of  never-failing  skill, 
He  treasures  up  His  vast  designs, 

And  works  His  sovereign  will. 

''  Blind  unbelief  is  sure  to  err, 
And  scan  His  work  in  vain  : 

God  is  His  own  interpreter, 
And  Ho  will  make  it  plain." 


between  her  and.it,  never  ,to  be  lifted  until  Jo- 
hanna sank  into  the  possibly  not,  far-oft" grave. 

"No,  no,"  she^thonght  to  herself,  as  she 
looked  on  that  frail,  old  face,  which  even  the 
secondary  grief  of  this  last  week  seemed  to   ' 
have  made  frailer  and  older.     "  No,  it.  is  bet- 
ter as  it  is  ;  I  believe  I  did  right.     The  end  « 
will  show." 

The  end  was  nearer  than  she  thought.  So. 
sometimes — not  often,  lest  self-sacrifice  should 
become  a  less  holy  thing  than  it  is — Provi- 
denee  accepts  the  will  foi  the  act,  an,d  makes 
the  latter  needless.  . 

There  was  a  sucldfi  knock  at  the  hall  door. 

"It.  is  the  voung  people  coming  in  to  sup- 
per."  '  , 

"It'snot.i'  said  Hilary,  starting  up — "it's 
not  their  knock.     It  is — " 

She  never  finished  the  sentence,  for  she  was 
sobbing  in  Robert  Lyon's  arms. 

"  What  does  it  all  mean  ?"  cried  the  bewil- 
dered Johanna,  of  whom,  I  must  confess,  for 
once  nobody  took  the  least  notice.  •   . 

It  meant  that,  by  one  of  these  strange  acci- 
dents, as  we  call  them,  which  in  a  moment 
ialter  the  whole  current  of  things,  the  senior 
ipartner  had  suddenly'  died,  and  his  son,  not 
being  qualified  to  take  his  place  in  the  Liver- 
pool bouse,  had  to  go  out  to  India  instead  of 
Robert  Lyon,  who  would  now  remain  perma- 


112 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


nently,  as  the  third  senior  partner,  in  Eng- 
land. « 

This  news  had  met  him  at  Southampton, 
He  had  gone  thence  direct  to  Liverpool,  ar-l 
ranged  affairs  so  far  as  was-  possible,  and  re- 
turned, traveling  without  an  hour's  intermis-, 
sion,  to  tell  his  own  tidings,  as  was  best— or ; 
as  he  thought  it  was.  » 

Perhaps  at  the  core  of  his  heart  lurked  the! 
desire  to  come  suddenly  back,  as,  it  iseaid,  if 
the  absent  or  the  dead  should  come,  they  I 
would  find  all  things  changed  ;  the  place  filled; 
up  in  home  and  hearth — no  face  of  welcome 
— no  heart  leaping  to  heart  in  the  ecstasy  of 
reunion.  j 

Well,  if  Robert  Lyon  had  any  misgivings — 
and  being  a  man,  and  in  love,  perhaps  he  had 
—they  were  ended  now. 

"  Is  she  glad  to  see  me  '!"  was  all  he  could 
find  to  say  when,  Johanna  having  consider- 
ately vanished,  he  might  have  talked  as  much 
as  he  pleased. 

Hilary's  only  answer  was  a. little,  low  laugh 
of  inexpressible  content. 

He  lifted  up  between  his  bands  the  sweet; 
face,  neithe*  so  young  nor  80  pretty  as  it  had 
been,  but  oh !  so  sweet,  with  the  sweetnees  that 
long  outlives  beauty — a  fade  that  a  man  might 
look  on  all  his  life  time  and  never  tire  of — so, 
infinitely  loving,  so  infinitely  true  !  And  hei 
knew  it  was  his  wife's  face,  to  shine  upon  himj 
day  by  day,  and  year  by  year,  till  it  faded  into^ 
old  age— beautiful  and  beloved  even  then.  All| 
the  strong  nature  of  the  man  gave  way;  hei 
wept  almost  like  a  child  in  his  "little  wo- 
man's" arms. 

Let  us  leave  them  theie,  by  that  peaceful 
fireside-  these  two,  who  are  to  sit  by  one  fire- 
side as  Ions:  as  they  live.  Of  their  further 
fortune  we  know  nothing — nor  do  they  them- 
selves— except  the  one  fact,  in  itself  joy  enough 
for  any  mortal  cup  to  hold,  that  it.  will  be  sha- 
red together.  Two  at  the  hearth,  two  abroad  ; 
two  to  labor,  two  to  rejoice  :  or,  if  so  it  must 
be,  two  to  weep,  and  two  to  comfort  one  an- 
other ;  the  man  to  be  the  head  of  the  woman, 
and  the  woman  the  heart  of  the  man.  This 
is  the  ordination  of  TJod  ;  th's  is  the  perfect 
life';  none  the  less  perfect  that  so  many  fall 
short  of  it. 

So'let  us  bid  them  good-ty- ;  Robert  Lyon 
and  Hilary  Leaf,  "Good-by  ;  <iod  he  with 
ve !"  for  we  shall  see  them  no  more. 


CHAPTER  XXVri. 

Elizaseth   stood   at    the    nursery  window. 
pointTng  out  to  little  Henry  how  the  lilacs  and 
laburnums  were   coming   into   flower  in  the 
square  below,  and  speculating  with  him  wheth-! 
er  the  tribe  of  sparrows  which  they  had  fedj 


all  the  winter  from  the  mignonette  boxes  on 
the  window  sill  would  be  building  ne8ts  in  the 
tall  trees  of  Russell  Square  :  for  she  wished, 
with  her  great  aversion  to  London,  to  make 
her  nursling  as  far  as  possible  "  a  c^untrv 
child."  • 

Master  Henry  Leaf  Ascott  was  by  no  means 
little  now.  He  would  run  about  on  his  totter- 
ing fat  legs,  and  he  could  say,  "  Mammy  Liz- 
zie," also,  "  Pa-pa,"  as  had  been  carefully 
taught  him  by  his  conscientious  nurse.  At 
which  papa  had  been  at  first  excessively  sur- 
prised, then  gratified,  and  had  at  last  taken 
kindly  to  the  appellation  as  a  matter  of  course. 

It  inaugurated  a  new  era  in  Peter  Ascott's 
life.  At  first  twice  a  week,  and  then  every 
day,  he  sent  up  for  "  Master  Ascott"  to  keep 
him  company  at  dessert ;  he  then  changed  his 
dinner  hour  from  half  past  six  to  five,  because 
Elizabeth,  with  her- stern  sacrifice  of  every 
thing  to  the  child's  good,  had  suggested  to 
him,  humbly  but  firmly,  that  late  hours  kept 
little  Henry  too.  long  out  of  his  bed.  He  gave 
up  his  bottle  of  port  and  his  after-dinuer  sleep, 
and  took  to  making  water-lilies  and  caterpillars 
out  of  oranges  and  boats  out  of  walnut  shells,  for 
his  boy's  special  edification.  Sometimes  when,  • 
at  half  past  six,  Elizabeth,  punctual  as  clock- 
work, knocked  at  the  dining  room  door,  she 
heard  father  and  son  laughing  together  in  a 
most  jovial  manner,  though  the  decanters 
were  in  their  places  and  the  wine  glasses  un- 
touched. 

And  even  after  the  child  disappeared,  the 
butler  declared  that  master  usually  took  qui- 
etly to  his  newspaper,  or  rang  for  his  tea,  or 
perhaps  dozed  harmlessly  in  his  chair  till  bed- 
time. 

I  do  not  allege  thatPeter  Ascot t  was  mirac- 
ulously changed;  people  do  not  change,  es- 
pecially at  his  age :  externally  he  was  still  the 
same  pompous,  overbearing,  coarse  man,  with 
whom,  no  doubt,  his  son  would  have  a  tolera- 
bly sore  bargain  in  years  to  come.  But  still 
the  child  had  touched  a  soft  corner  in  his 
heart,  the  one  soft  corner  which  in  his  youth 
had  yielded  to  the  beauty  of  Miss  Selina  Leaf: 
and  the  old  fellow  was  a  better  fellow  than  he 
had  -once  been.  Probably,  with  care,  he 
might  be  for  the  rest  oi  his  life  at  least  man- 
ageable. 

Elizabeth  hoped  so  for  his  boy's  sake,  and 
little  as  she  liked  him,  she  tried  to  conquei 
her  antipathy  as  much  as  she  could.  She  al 
whys  took  care  to  treat  him  with  extreme  res- 
pect, and  to  bring  up  little  Henry  to  do  the ; >a  me. 
And,  as  often  happens,  Mr.  Ascott  began  gra- 
dually to  comport  himself. in  a  manner  deser- 
ving of  respect.  He  ceased  his  oaths  and  his 
coarse  language  :  seldom  flew  into  a  passion : 
and  last,  not  least,  the  butler  avouched  that 
master  hardly  ever  went  to  bed  "  muzzy"  now. 
Toward  all  his  domestics,  and  especially  his 
son's  nurse,  he  behaved  himself  m«re  like  a 


MliSTKEiStf  AiNU  MAID. 


llo 


master  ami  less  like  a  tyrant ;  so  lhat  (lie  es-;ot'Tom  Chile's  passing  through  the  town  as  a 
tabliehment  .it    Russell  Square  went  on  iartist   lecturer,   or  something  of  the  sort, 

way  more  peaceful  than  bad  ever  been  kmowrrwithdiis  pretty,  showy  London  wife,  who,  when 
before.  be  brought  her  there,  had  looked  down  rather 

There  was  no  talk  of  bis  giving  it  a  new  contemptuously  upon  the  street  where  Tom 
mistress  ;  he  seemed  to  have    bad  enough  of  was  born. 

matrimony.  Of  his  late  wife  be  never  spoke;  This  was  all  Elizabeth  knew  about  them, 
whether  he  loved  her  or  not,  whether  be  had  They,  too,  had  passed  from  her  life  as  phases 
regretted  her  or  not,  the  love  and  regret  werejof  keen  joy  and  keener  sorrow  do  pass,  like  a 
now  alike  ended.  dream  and  the  shadows  of  a  dream.     It  may 

Poor  Selina  !    It  was  Elizabeth  only,  who,  1,e>  lile  "self  will  seem  atfthe  end  to  be  nothing 
with  a  sacred  sense  of  dutv,  occasionally  talk-jmore- 

ed  to  little  Henry  about  "mamma  up  "there":  But  Elizabeth  Hand's  love  story  wa&notso 
— pointing  to  the  blank  bit  of  blue  skv  over  to  cr>d. 

the  trees  of  Russell  Square,  and  hoped  in  time  ^ne  morning,  the  same  morning  when  she 
to  make  him  understand  something  about  her,  '"a  1  been  pointing  out  the  lilacs  to  little  Henry, 
and  how  she  had  loved  him,  her  "  bSby."  and  now  came  iQ  fro"1  the  square  with  a 
This  love,  the  only  beautiful  emotion  her  "life  branch  of  them  in  her  hand,  the  postman  gave 

her  a  letter,  the  handwriting  of  which  made 
lur  start  as  if  it  had  been  a  visitation  from  the 
dead. 

'•  Mammy   Lizzie,  mammy  Lizzie  l"  cried 


had  known,  was  the  one  fragment  that  remain 
ed  of  it  alter  her  death  :  the  one  remembrance 
she  left  to  her  child. 


Little  Henry  was  not  in   the  least  like  her,',. 

little   Henry,  plucking  at  her  gown,  but  for 


nor  vet  like  his  father.     He  took  after  some 


once  his  nurse  did  not  notice  him.     She  stood 


forgotten  tvpe,  some  past  generation  of  either 

•family,  which  reappeared  Tn  this  as  something  ou    the  .dooi"steP>  .trembling    violently  ;    at 


new.     To  Elizabeth   he  was  a  perfect  revela- 
tion of  beauty  and  infantile  fascination.     He 
rilled  up  every  corner  of  her  heart.     She 
fat  and  flourishing,  even  cheerful  :  so  cheerful 
that  she    bore   with   equanimity   t'ae  parting 


ength  she  put  the  letter  into  her  pocket,  lift- 
ed the  child,  and  got  up  stairs  somehow. 
When  she  had  settled  her  charge  to  his  mid- 
day sleep,  then,  and  not  till  then,  did  she  take 
out  and   read  the  few  lines,  which,  though 


with  her  dear  Miss  Hilary,  who  wentawav  in  wri"  ,n  on  shabby  paper,  and  with  more  than 
glory  and  happiness  as  Mrs.  Robert  Lyon',   to  on£ blb>  w?re  «\hke.— yet  so  terribly  unlike 


live 


in  Liverpool,  and  Miss  Leal'  with  her. 
Thus  both  Elizabeth's  youthful  dreams  ended 
in  -nothing,  and  it  was  more  than  probable 
that  for  the  future  their  lives  and  her.-  being 
so  widely  apart,  she  would  see   very   little  of 


-Tom's  caligraphy  of  old  : 


Deak  Elizabeth, — I  hare  no  right  to  ask  any  kindness 

of  you:  but  if  yon  would  like  to  see  an  old  friend  alive,  I 

wish  y<-<\  would  conic  and  see  me.     I  have  be«n  long  of  ask- 

i.  lest  you  might  fancy  I  wanted  to  get  something  out 

of  you  :  tor  I'm  as  poor  as  a  rat ;  and  once  lately  I  saw  you, 

her  beloved  inistresses   any   more.     But  they  '^.I^Ti^niJ^'itf^^^nH*?  *te «5n,s$£d 

,    ,  .      .  .     .       ,   J  ,    .       ,  •   'Old  luce,  and  1  .should  like  to  get  one  kind  look   from  it  bo- 

had  done   their  work  in   her  and  lor  her:   and  [fore  I  go  where  I  sha'n't  want  any  kindness  from  any  body . 
it  had  borne  fruit  a  hundred  fold,   and   would )  ^ovrgver,  do  just  as  you  choose. 
.1,  ••  i  ours  aftectionately,  T.  Cuffe. 


still 


•  Underneath  is  my  address." 


"1  know  you  will  take  care  of  this  child — i     Tl  .  ,  Al  ,,,-,. 

he  is  the  hope  of  the  family,"  said  Miss  Leaf.,,  U  ,was  fln  one  of  thosf  wretched  nooks  in 
when  she  was  giving  her  last  kiss  to  little  Hen-  J  <sinuns  er  now  swept  away  by  Victoria 
rv.  •<  r  could  nut  bear  to  leave  him,  if  I  were  f tleel  a"d  °ther  improvements.  Elizabeth 
not  leaving  him  with  you."  happened  to  have  read  about  it  in  one  of  the 

And  Elizabeth  had  taken  her  charge  proud- "W    charitable    pamphlets,    reports,    etc. 
Iv  in  her  arms,  knowing  she  was  fruited,  and  *h,<*  Wetrte  sent   formally  to   the  wealthy 

inwardly  vowing  to  be  worthv  of  that  trust,     ^'   ."^  >"•     "'w,      '"  "?  d°Wn  ""J?  l° 

:       ,  ,.  ,    ,  :  at  fires  with.     TV  hat  must  not  poor  Tom 

Another  dream  was  likewise  ended  ;  so  com-  have  sunk  t0  belore  be  ]iadconie  tolive  there? 
pletely  that  she  sometimes  wondered  if  it  was  Hi(j   ]clter  waa  like  a  c,      out  of  the  depths 
ever  real;  whether  she  had  ever  been  a. happy  ar,d  the  voice  was  that  of  her  youth,  her  first 
girl,  looking  forward  as  ^irls  do  to  wifehood  jove  '    - 

i:'  '     ';i';        is'anv  woman  i-v-r  deaf  to  that?      The  love 

been  always  the  staid  middle  aged  peiso.ishe[mav  have  died  a  natural  death:  many  first 
was  now,  whom  noboay  ever  suspected  of  any  loves  do  :  a  riper,  completer,  happierlove  may 


such  things. 


have  come  in  its  place  ;  but  there  must  be  some- 


She  had  been  once  back  toher  old  home,  to  thing  unnatural  about  the  woman  and  man 
settle  her  mother  comfortably  upon  a  weekly. likewise,  who  can  ever  quite  l  >xge{  it— the 
allowance,  to  'prentice  her  little  brother,  to  lew  of  their  youth-4he  beauty  of  their  dawn, 
see  one  sister  married,  and  the  other  sent  of)  "  Poor  Tom,  poor  Tom  1"  sighed  Elizabeth, 
to  Liverpool,  to  be  servant  to  Mrs.  Lyon.  "  mv  own  poor  Tom  •"  -^ 
While  at  Stowbury,  she  had  heard  by  chancel     She  forgot  Esther  ;  either  from  Tom's  not 


114 


MXSTRESS5AND  MAID/ 


mentioning  her,  or  in  the  strong  return  to  old 
times  which  his  letter  produced  ;  forgot  her  for 
the  time  being  as  completely  as  if  she  had  nev- 
er existed.  Even  when  the  recollection  came 
it  made  little  difference.  The  sharp  jealousy, 
the  dislike  and  contempt  had  all  calmed  dow» ; 
she  thought  she  could  now  see  Tom's  wife  as 
any  other  woman.  Especially  if,  as  the  let- 
ter indicated,  they  were  so  very  poor  and  mis- 
erable. 

Possibly  Eether  had  suggested  writing  it? 
Perhaps,  though  Tom  did  not,  Esther  did 
"  want  to  get  something  out  of  her" — Eliza- 
beth Hand,  who  was  known  to  have  large 
wage6,  and  to  be  altogether  a  thriving  person  ? 


minute's  time.  'Can't  last  long,  and  Lord 
knows  who's  \v  bury  him." 

With  tbatseniiM.ee  knelling  in  her  ears,  Eli- 
zabeth waited  till  she  heard  the  short  cough 
and  the  hard  breathing  of  some  one  toiling 
heavily  up  the  stair. 

Tom,  Tom  himself.  But  oh,  so  altered ! 
with  every  bit  of  youth  gone  out  of  him  ;  with 
death  written  on  every  line  of  his  haggard 
face,  the  death  he  had  once  prognosticated 
with  a  sentimental  pleasure,  but  which  now 
had  come  upon  bim  in  all  its  ghastly  reality. 

He  was  in  the  last  stage  of  consumption. 
The  disease  was  latent  in  his  family,  Elizabeth 
knew  :  she  had  known  it  when  she  belonged 


Well   it  mattered  little.    Theone  fact  remain>  *»m.  and  fondly  thought  that  as  his  wife, 
ed:  Tom  was  in  distress;  Tom  needed  her  ;!her  incessant  care  might  save  him  from  it ; 
i     ^....i.  _n  I  but  nothing  could  save  him  now. 

sne  must  go.  «  wbo>B  tbat?»  8aid  he    in  bis  own  8harp, 

Her  only  leisure  time  was  of  an  evening,  fretful  voice> 
after  Henry   was   in   bed.     The  in  ervening!     <<M     Tom>     B      d     ,t  ^    gu  down 

hours  especially  the  last  one  when  th.  chil  d   m      ^         h,8  Qver  „ 
was  down  stairs  with  bis  father,  calmed  her  ;      Tom         ^  her  hand  a8  ghe  8tood  b    bi 
subdued  the  tumult  of  old  remembrances  that  bufc  he  ^  QO  mnher  demonstration>  nor 
came  surging  up  and  beating  at  the  long  sbtu  med         ex  reseion  of  gratitude.    He  seemed 
door  of  her  heart      When  her  boy  returned   far  too  fa     ^  £  are  alwa  8  ab80rbed 

leaping  and  laughing,  and  playing  all  sorts  of  in  tbe  8ad         entK  t£     8eldom  trouble  tbem. 
tricks  as  she  put  him  to  bed,  she  could  smile  eelyea  muc£  about  tbe  J    L    0nl    there  wap 


too.  And  when  kneeling  beside  her  in  his 
pretty  white  night  gown,  he  stammered 
through  the  prayer  she  had  thought  it  right 
to  begin  to  teach  him,  though  of  course  he 
was  too  young  to  understand  it — the  words 
"  Thy  will  be  done  ;"  "  Forgive  us  our  tres-i 
passes,  as  we  forgive  those  who  trespass 
against  us ;"  and  lastly,  "  Lead  us  not  into 
temptation,  but  deliver  us  from  evil,"  struck 
home  to  his  nurse's  inmost  soul. 
"Mammy,  mammy  Lizzie's  'tying." 


something  in  the  way  Tom  clung  to  her  hand, 
helplessly,  imploringly,  that  moved  the  inmost 
heart  of  Elizabeth. 

"  I'm  veiy  bad,  you  see.  This  cough  ;  oh, 
it  shakes  me  dreadfully  ;  especially  of  nights." 

"  Have  you  any  doctor  ?" 

."  The  druggist  close  by,  or  rather,  the  drug- 
gist's shopman.  He's  a  very  kind  young  fel- 
low, from  our  county,  I  fancy,'  for  he  asked  me 
once  if  I  wasn't  a  Stowbury  man  ;  aud  ever 
since  he  has  doctored  me  for  nothing,  and 


Yes,  she"  was  crying,  but  it  did  her  good     iyen  me     ghim  nQW  and  thenf  wben 

She  was  able  to  kiss  her  little  boy,  who  slept  f  ,ye  been  a>mo8t  cfemmed  to  death  in  tbe  win. 
like  a  top  in  hve  minutes:  then  she  took  on  .     „ 
ler  good  silk  gown,  and  dressed  herself;  so-      /,  0b<  Tom>  wby  d;dn,t  you  wrJte  to  me  be. 

fore.     Have  you  actually  wanted  food  ?" 


berly  and  decently,  but  so  that  people  should 
not  suspect,  in  that  low  and  dangerous  neig  h- 
borhood,  the  sovereigns  that  she  carried  in  an 
under  pocket,  ready  to  use  as  occasion  requ  ir- 
ed.  Thus  equipped,  without  a  minute's  delay, 
she  started  for  Tom's  lodging. 

It  was  poorer  than  even  she  expected.    One 


"  Yes,  many  a  time 
this  twelvemonth." 
"But  Esther?" 
"  Who  ?"  screamed  Tom 
"  Your  wife  ?" 


I've  been  out  of  work 


She  spent ev- 


"  My  wife  ?     I've  got  none? 
attic  room,  baie  almost  as  when  it  was  built.jery  thing  till  I  fell  ill,  and  then  she  met  a  fel- 
No  chimney  or  grate,  no  furniture  except  ajiow  w;tb  lots  of  money.    Curse  her  I", 
box  which  served  as  both  table  and  chair  ;  and      The  fury  with  which -he  spoke  shook  him 
a  heap  of  straw,  with  a  blanket  thrown  over  an  overj  and  6ent  him  into  another  violent  fit 
it.     The  only  comfort  about  it  was  that  it  was  0f  coughing,  out  of  which  he  revived  by  de 
clean  ;  Tom's  innate  sense  of  refinement  had 
abided  with  him  to  the  last. 

Elizabeth  had  time  to  make  all  these  obser- 
vations, tor  Tom  was  out — gone,  the  landlady 
said,  to  the  druggist's  shop,  round  the  corner 


He's  very   bad, 


ma'am," 


added  the  wo- 
man, civilly,  probably  led  thereto  by  Eliza- 
beth's respectable  appearance,  and  the  cab  in 


grees,  but  in  a  state  of  such  complete  exhaub- 
tion  that  Elizabeth  hazarded  no  more  ques- ; 
tions.   He  must  evidently  be  dealt  with  exactly 
like  a  child. 

She  made  up  her  mind  in  her  own  silent 
way,  as  indeed  she  had  done  ever  since  she 
came  into  the  room. 

"  Lie  down,  Tom,  aud  keep  yourself  quiet 


which  she  had  come — lest  she  should  loBe  ajfor  a  little.    I'll  be  back  as  soon  as  I  can- 


MISTRESS  AffD  MAID, 


115 


back  with  something  to  do  you  good.  You 
won't  object." 

"  No,  no ;  you  can  do  any  thing  you  like 
with  me.     You  always  could." 

Elizabeth  groped  her  way  down  stairs 
strangely  calm  and  self-possessed.  There  was 
need.  Tom,  dying,  had  come  to  her  as  his 
sole  support  and  consolation — throwing  him- 
self helplessly  upon  her,  never  doubting  either 
her  will  or  her  power  to  help  him.  Neither 
must  fail.  The  inexplicable  woman's  strength, 
sometimes  found  in  the  very  gentlest,  quietest, 
and  apparently  the  weakest  character,  nerved 
her  now. 

She  went  up  and  down,  street  after  street, 
looking  for  lodgings,  till  the  evening  darkened, 
and  the  Abbey  towers  rose  grimly  against  the 
summer  sky.    Then  she  crossed  over  West- 


night,  when  I've  lain  on  that  straw,  and 
thought  I  was  dying,  I've  remembered  you 
and  all  the  things  you  used  to  say  to  me. 
You  are  a  good  woman ;  thefe  never  was  a 
better." 

Elizabeth  smiled,  a  faint,  rather  sad  smile. 
For,  as  she  was  washing  up  the  tea  things, 
she  had  noticed  Tom's  voice  grow  feebler,  and 
his  features  sharper  and  more  wan. 

"  I'm  very  tired,"  he  said.  "  I'm  afraid  to 
go  to  bed,  I  get  such  wretched  nights ;  but  I 
think,  if  I  lay  down  in  my  clothes,  I  could  go 
to  sleep." 

Elizabeth  helped  him  to  the  small  pallet, 
shook  his  pillow,  and  covered  him  up  as  if  he 
had  been  a  child. 

"  You're  very  good  to  me,"  he  said,  and 
looked  up  at  her— Tom's  bright,  fond  look  of 


minster  Bridge,  and  in  a  little  street  on  the  years  ago.  But  it  passed  away  in  a  moment, 
Surrey  side  she  found  what  she  wanted — a  and  he  closed  hia  eyes,  saying  he  was  so  ter 
decent  room,  half  sitting,  half  bedroom,  with'ribly  tired 


what  looked  like  a  decent  landlady.  There 
was  no  time  to  make  many  inquiries ;  any 
any  thing  was  better  than  to  leave  Tom  an 
other  night  where  he  was. 

She  paid  a  week's  rent"  in  advance  ;  bought 
firing  and  provisions ;  every  thing  she  could 
think  of  to  make  him  comfortable  ;  and  then 
she  went  to  fetch  him  in  a  cab. 

The  sick  man  offered  no  resistance ;  indeed, 
he  hardly  seemed  to  know  what  she  was  doing 
with  him.  She  discovered  the  cause  of  this 
half  insensibility  when,  in  making  a  bundle  of 
his  few  clothes,  she  found  a  package  labeled 
"  opium." 

"  Don't  take  it  from  me,"  he  said  pitifully, 
"  it's  the  only  comfort  I  have." 

But  when  he  found  himself  in  the  cheerful 
room,  with  the  fire  blazing  and  the  tea  laid 
out,  he  woke  up  like  a  person  out  of  a  bad 
dream. 

"Oh,  Elizabeth,  I'm  so  comfortable!" 

Elizabeth  could  have  wept. 

Whether  the  wholesome  food  and  drink  re- 
vived him,  or  whether  it  was  one  of  the  sud 
den  flashes  of  life  that  often  occur  in  consump- 
tive patients,  but  he  seemed  really  better,  and 
began  to  talk,  telling  Elizabeth  about  his 
long  illness,  and  saying  over  again  how  very 
kind  the  druggist's  young  man  had  been  to 
him. 

"  I'm  sure  he's  a  gentleman,  though  he  has 
come  down  in  the  world  ;  for,  as  he  says,  'mis- 
ery makes  a  man  acquainted  with  strange 
bedfellows,  and  takes  the  nonsense  out  of  him.' 
I  think  so  too,  and  if  ever  1  get  better,  I  don't 
mean  to  go  about  the  country  speaking  ag~" 
born  gentlefolks  any  more.  They're  *" 
a  muchness  with  ourselves — bad  and  ^ 
little  of  all  sorts ;  the  same  flesh  and  blooT 
we  are.    Aren't  they,  Elizabeth  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  And  there's  another  thing  I  mean  to  do. 
I  mean  to  try  and  be  good  like  you.    Many  a 


"Then  I'll  bid  you  good-by,  for  I  ought  to 
have  been  at  home  by  now.  You'll  take  care 
of  yourself,  Tom,  and  I'll  come  and  see  you 
again  the  very  first  hour  I  can  be  spared. 
And  if  you  want  me  you'll  send  to  me  at  once  ? 
You  know  where  ?" 

"  I  will,"  said  Tom.  "  Its  the  same  house, 
isn't  it,  in  Kussell  Square  ?" 

"  Yes."    And  they  were  both  silent. 

After  a  minute,  Tom  asked,  in  a  troubled 
voice, 

"  Have  you  forgiven  me?" 

"  Yes,  Tom,  quite." 

"Won't  you  give  me  one  kiss,  Elizabeth  V 

She  turned  away.  She  did  not  mean  to  be 
hard,  but  somehow  she  could  not  kiss  Esther's 
husband. 

"  Ah,  well ;  it's  all  the  same!  good-by !" 

"Good-by,  Tom." 

But  as  she  stood  at  the  door,  and  looked 
back  at  him  lying  with  his  eyes  shut,  and  as 
white  as  if  he  were  dead,  Elizabeth's  heart 
melted.  He  was  her  Tom,  her  own  Tom,  of 
,whom  she  had  been  so  fond,  so  proud ;  whose 
future  she  had  joyfully  anticipated  long  before 
she  thought  of  herself  as  mixed  up  with  it ; 
and  he  was  dying,  dying  at  four-and-twenty ; 
passing  away  to  the  other  world,  where,  per- 
haps, she  might  meet  him  yet,  with  no  cruel 
Esther  between. 

"Tom,"  she  said,  and  knelt  beside  him, 
"  Tom,  I  didn't  mean  to  vex  you.  I'll  try  to 
be  as  good  as  a  sister  to  you.  I'll  never  for- 
sake you  as  long  as  you  live." 

"  I  know  you  never  will." 

'  Good-by,  then,  for  to-night." 

And  she  did  kiss  him,  mouth  to  mouth, 

letly  and  tenderly.    She  was  so  glad  of  it 
ward. 

was  late  enough  when  she  reached  Rug- 

Square^  but  nobody  ever  questioned  the 

"ingsof  Mrs.  Hand,  who  was  a  privileg- 

She  crept  in  beside  her  little  Hear 


Tfl 


selLS 

proceedings  c 
ed  pewgm.^  I 


lies 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


ry,  and  as  the  child  turned  in  his  sleep  and  "  And  you  say  he  is  aStowbury  man  ?  That 
put  his  arms  about  her  neck,  she  clasped  him  is  certainly  a  claim.  I  always  feel  bound, 
tight,  and  thought  there  was  still  something  somewhat  as  a  member  o!  Parliament  might 
to  live  for  in  this  weary  world.  ,  to  do  mj  best  for  any  one  belongingto  my 

All  night  she  thought  over  what  best  could  native  town.  So  be  satisfied,  Mrs.  Hand; 
be  done  for  Tom.  Though  she  never  deceived  consider  the  thing  settled." 
herself  for  a  moment  as  to  his  state, .still  she  And  he  was  going  away:  but  time  being  of 
thought,  with  care  and  proper  puraing,  he  such  great  moment,  Elizabeth  ventured  to  de- 
might  live  a  few  months.  Especially  if  she  tain  him  till  he  had  written  the  letter  of  re- 
could  get  him  into  the  Consumption  Hospital,  commendation,  and  found  out  what  days  the 
newly  started  in  Chelsea,  of  which  she  was  application  for  admission  could  be  received, 
aware  Mr.  Ascott — who  dearly  loved  to  see  his  He  did  it  very  patiently,  and  even  took  out  his 
name  in  a  charity  list — was  one  of  the  gov-  purse  and  laid  a  sovereign  on  the  top  of  the 
ernors.  letter. 

There  was  no  time  to  be  lost ;  she  determin-j     "  I  suppose  the  man  is  poor  ;  you  can  use 


ed  to  speak  to  her  master  at  once 

The  time  she  chose  was  when  she  brought 
down  little  Henry,  who  was  now  always  ex- 
pected to  appear,  and  say,  "  Dood  morning, 
papa,"  before  Mr.  Ascott  went  into  the  city. 

As  they  stood,  the  boy  laughing  in  his  fa- 


this  for  his  benefit." 

"  There  is  no  need,  thank  you,  Sir,"  said 
Elizabeth,  putting  it  gently  aside.  She  could 
not  bear  that  Tom  should  accept  any  body's 
money  but  her  own. 

At  her  first  spare  moment  she  wrote  him  a 


ther's  face,  and  the  father  beaming  all  over  long  letter  explaining  what  she  had  done*,  and 
with  delight,  the  bitter,  almost  fierce  thought,  appointing  the  next  day  but  one,  the  earliest 
emote  Elizabeth,  Why  should  Peter  Ascott  be  possible,  for  taking  him  out  to  Chelsea  her- 
standing  there  fat  and  flourishing,  and  poor|self.  If  he  objected  to  the  plan,  he  was  to 
Tom  dying  ?  It  made  her  bold  to  ask  the>  write  and  say  so ;  but  she  urged  him  as  strong- 
only  favor  she  ever  had  asked  of  the  master!  ly  as  she  could  not  to  let  slip  this  opportunity 
whom  she  did  not  care  for,  and  to  whom  she  of  obtaining  good  nursing  and  first  rate  medi- 
had  done  her  duty  simply  as  duty,  without.ical  care, 
until  lately,  one  fragment  of  lespect.  Many  times  during  the  day  the  thought  of 

"Sir,  if  you  please,  might  I  speak  with  you  Tom  alone  in  his  one  room — comfortable 
a  minute  before  you  go  out?"  [though  it  was,  and  though  she  had  begged  the 

"Certainly,  Mrs.  Hand.  Any  thing  about  landlady  to  see  that  he  wanted  nothing — came 
Master  Henry?  Or  perhaps  yourself ?  You  across  her  with  a  sudden  pang.  His  face, 
want  more  wages?  Very  well.  I  shall  be  feebly  lifted  up  from  the  pillow,  with  its  last 
glad,  in  any  reasonable  way.  to  show  my  sat-  affectionate  smile,  the  sound  of  his  cough  as 


isfaction  at  the  manner  in  which  you  bring  up 
my  son." 

"Thank  you, Sir,'"  said  Elizabeth,  courtsey- 
ing.     "  But  it  is  not  that." 

And  in  the  briefest  language  she  could  find 
she  explained  what  it  was. 


she  stood  listening  outside  on  the  stair  head, 
haunted  her  all  through  that  sunshiny  dune 
day  :  and,  mingled  with  it,  came  ghostly  vis- 
ions of  that  other  day  in  June — her  happy 
Wliitsnn  holiday — her  first  and  her  last. 
Xo  letter  coming  from  Tom  on  theappoint- 


Mr.  Ascott  knitted  his  brows  and  looked  ed  morning,  she  left  Master  Henry  in  the 
important.  He  never  scattered  h's  benefits  charge  of  the  house-maid,  who  was  very  fond 
with  a  silent  hand,  and  he  dearly  liked  to  cre-^  of  hi  in — as  indeed  he  bade  fair  to  be  spoiled 
ate  difficulties,  if  only  to  show   how  he  could  by  the  whole  establishment  a'.  Eussell  Square 


smooth  them  down. 

"To  get  a  patient  admitted  at  the  Oonsump- 


-and  went  down  to  Westminster. 
There  was  alougdav  before  her,  so  she  took 


tion  Hospital,  is,  you  should  be  aware,  no  easy  a  minute's   breathing   space  on  Westminstei 
matter,  until  the  building  at  Queen*s  Elm  is  Bridge,  and  watched  the  great  current  of  Lon 


complete.  But  I  flatter  myself  I  have  influ- 
ence. I  have  subscribed  a  deal  of  money. 
Possibly  the  person  may  be  got  in  in  time. 
Who  did  you  say  he  was?" 

"Thomas  Clifie.  He  married  one  of  the 
servants  here,  Esther — " 

"  Oh,  don't  trouble  yourself  about  the  namef 
[   shouldn't  recollect   it.     The   housekeeper 


don  life  ebbing  and  flowing--life  on  the  river 
and  life  on  the  shore  :  every  body  sobusy  and 
active  and  bright. 

"  Poor  Tom,  poor  Tom !"  she  sighed,  and 
wondered  whether  his  ruined  life  would  ever 
corne-to  any  happy  ending,  except  death, 
she  hurried  on,  and  soon  found  the  street 
ce  she  had  taken  his  lodging.    At  the  cor- 


might.     Why   didn't  his   wife  apply  to  «the'l«Tr  of  it  was,  as  is  too  usual  in  London  streets, 
housekeeper?"  a  public  house,  about  which    more  than  the 

The  careless  question  seemed  hardly  to  ex-  usual  number  of  disreputable  idlers  were  hang- 


pect  an  answer,  and  Elizabeth  gave  none.  "She 
could  not  bear  to  make  public  Tom'swnisery 
and.  Esther's  shame.  -m 


There  were  also  one  or  two  policemen, 
who  were  ordering  the  little  crowd  to  give  way 
to  a  group  of  twelve  men,  coming  out. 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


117 


What  is  that?"  asked  Elizabefti.  [delivered their  verdict,  as  the  astute  policeman 

"  Coroner's  inquest :  jury  proceeding  to  view  had  foretold,  "  Died  by  the  visitation  of  God ;" 

the  body."  took  pipes  and  brandy  all  round  at  the  bar, 

Elizabeth,  who  had  never  come  into  contact  and  then  adjourned  to  their  several  homes, 

with  any  thing  of  the  sort,  stood  aside  with  a  gratified   at  having  done   their  duty  to  their 

sense  of  awe,  to  let  the  little  procession  pass,:country. 

and  then  followed  up  the  street.  Meantime,  Elizabeth  crept  up  stairs.     No- 

It  stopped;  oh  no  !  not  at  that  door!     But  body  hindered  or  followed  her  ;  nobody  cared 

it  was:  there  was  no  mistaking  the  number,  any  thing  for  the  solitary  dead. 

nor  the  drawn-down  blind  in  the  upper  room —      There  he  lay — poor  Tom !  almost  as  she  had 

Tom's  room.  left  him  ;  the  counterpane  was  hardly  disturb- 

"  Who  is  dead?"  she  asked,  in  a  whisper  ed,  the  candle  she  had  placed  on  the  chair  had 


that  made  the  policeman  stare 

"Oh!  nobody  particular;  a  young  man, 
found  dead  in  his  bed :  supposed  to  be  a  case 
of  consumption;  verdict  will  probably  be, 
'  Died  by  the  visitation  of  God  !' " 

Ay,  that  familiar  phrase,  our  English  law's 
solemn  recognition  of  our  national  religious 
feeling,  was  true.  God  had  "visited"  poor 
Tom  :  he  suffered  no  more. 

Elizabeth  leaned  against  the  door-way,  and 
saw  the  twelve  jurymen  go  up  stairs  with  a 
clatter  of  feet,  and  come  down  again,  one  after 
the  other,  less  noisily,  and  some  of  them  look- 
ing grave.  Nobody  took  any  notice  of  her, 
until  the  lodging  house  mistress  appeared. 

"Oh,  here  she  is,  gentlemen.  This  is  the 
young  woman  as  saw  him  last  alive.  She'll 
give  her  evidence.  She'll  teli  you  I'm  not  .a 
hit  to  blame." 


burned  down  to  a  bit  of  wick,  which  still  lay 
in  the  socket.  Nobody  had  touched  him,  or 
any  thing  about  him,  as,  in  all  cases  of  "Found 
dead,"  English  law  exacts. 

Whether  he  had  died  soon  after  she  quitted 
him  that  night,  or  whether  he  had  lingered 
through  the  long  hours  of  darkness,  or  of  day- 
light following,  alive  and  conscious  perhaps, 
yet  too  weak  to  call  any  one,  even  had  there 
been  any  one  he  cared  to  call — when,  or  how, 
the  spirit  had  passed  away  unto  Him  who 
gave  it,  were  mysteries  that  could  never  be 
known. 

But  it  was  all  over  now  ;  helay  at  rest  with 
the  death  smile  on  his  face.  Elizabeth,  as  she 
stood  and  looked  at  him,  could  not,  dared  not 
weep. 

"  My  poor  Tom,  my  own  dear  Tom,"  was 
all  she  thought,  and  knew  that  he  was  all  her 


And  pulling  Elizabeth  after  her,  the  landla- own  now;  that  she  had  loved  him  through 


dy  burst  into  a  torrent  of  explanation  :  how 
she  had  done  her  very  best  for  the  poor  fellow ; 
how  she  listened  at  his  door  several  times  du- 
ring the  first  day,  and  heard  him  cough,  that 
is, 'she  thought  she  had,  but  toward  night  all 
was  so  very  quiet ;  and  there  having  come  a 
letter  by  post,  she  thought  she  would  take  it 
up  to  him. 

"  And  I  went  in,  gentlemen,  and  I  declare, 
upon  my  oath,  I  found  him  lying  just  as  he  is 
now,  and  as  cold  as  a  stone." 

"  Let  me  pass :  I'm  a  doctor,"  said  somebo- 
dy behind:  a  young  man,  very  shabbily  dress- 
ed, with  a  large  beard. 

landlady  and  Elizabeth,  till  he  saw  the  latter's 
face.  W^a. 

"Give  that  young  woman  a  chair  and  a 
glass  of  water,  will  you  ?"  he  called  out;  and 
his  authoritative  manner  impressed  the  jury- 
men, who  gathered  around  him,  ready  and 
eager  to  hear  any  thing  he  could  say. 

He  gave  his  name  as  John  Smith,  druggist's 
assistant :  said  that  the  young  man  who  lodged 
up  stairs,  whose  death  he  had  only  just  heard 
of,  had  been  his  patient  for  some  months,  and 
was  in  the  last  stage  of  consumption.  He  had 
no  doubt  the  death  had  ensued  from  perfectly 
natural  causes,  as  he  explained  in  such  tech- 
nical language  as  completely  to  overpower  the 
jury,  and  satisfy  them  accordingly.  They 
quitted  the  parlor,  and  proceeded  to  the  public 
house,  where,  after  a  brief  consultation,  they 


every  thing,  and  loved  him  to  the  end. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Elizabeth  spent  the  greatest  part  of  her 
holiday  in  that  house,  in  that  room.  Nobody- 
interfered  with  her  ;  nobody  asked  in  what  re- 
lation she  stood  to  the  deceased,  or  what  right 
she  had  to  take  upon  herself  the  arrangements 
for  his  funeral.  Every  body  was  only  too  glad 
to  let  her  assume  a  responsibility  which  would 
He  pushed  aside  the  otherwise  have  fallen  on  the  parish. 

The  only  person  who  appeared  to  remember 
either  her  or  the  dead  man  was  the  druggist's 
assistant,  who  sent  in  the  necessary  medical 
certificate  as  to  the  cause  of  death.  Elizabeth 
took  it  to  the  Registrar,  and  thence  proceeded 
to  an  undertaker  hard  by,  with  whom  shear- 
ranged  all  about  the  funeral,  and  that  it 
should  took  place  in  the  new  cemetery  at 
Kensal  Green.  She  thought  she  should  like 
that  better  than  a  close,  noisy  London  church 
yard. 

Before  she  left  the  house  she  saw  poor  Tom 
laid  in  his  coffin,  and  covered  up  forever  from 
mortal  eyes.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  she  sat 
herself  down  beside  him  and  wept. 

Nobody  contested  with  her  the  possessson 
of  the  few  things  that  had  belonged  to  him, 
which  were  scarcely  more  than  the  clothes  he 


118 


MISTRESS  AKD  MAID. 


had  on  whmi  he  died  ;  so  she  made  them  up  and  his  generally  depressed  air,  giving  the  ef- 
into  a  parcel  and  took  them  away  with  her.  feet  of  one  who  had  gone  down  in  the  world, 


In  his  waistcoat  pocket  she  found  one  book, 
a  little  Testament,  which  she  had  given  him 
herself.  It  looked  as  if  tt  had  been  a  good 
deal  read.  If  all  his  studies,  all  his  worship 
of  "pure  intellect,"  as  the  one  supreme  good, 
had  ended  in  that,  it  was  a  blessed  ending. 


made  him,  even  without  the  misleading  "John 
Smith,"  most  unlikely  10  be  identified  with 
the  Ascott  Leaf  of  old. 

"  I  never  should  have  known  you,  Sir  I" 
6aid  .Elizabeth  truthfully,  when  her  astonish- 
ment had  alittle  subsided  ;  "but  I  am  very  glad 


When  she  reached  home  Elizabeth  went  at  [to  see  you.     Oh  how  thankful  your  aunts  will 
once  to  her  master,  returned  him  his  letter  ofjbe  !" 

recommendation,  and  explained  to  him  that      "  Do  you  think  so?     I  thought  it  was  quite 
his  kindness  was  not  needed  now.  the  contrary.     But  it  does  not  matter;  they 

Mr.  Ascott  seemed  a  good  deal  shocked,  in- 1  will  never  hear  of  me  unless  you  tell  them — 
quired  from  her  a  few  particulars,  and  again  and  I  believe  I  may  trust  you.     You  would 
took  out  his  purse,  his  one  panacea  for  alii  not  betray  me,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  that  poor 
mortal   woes.     But  Elizabeth    declined  ;  she'fellow  yonder?" 
said  she  would  only  ask  him  for  an  advance!     "  No,  Sir." 

of  her  next  half-year's  wages.     She  preferred!     "  Now,  tell  me  something  about  my  aunts, 
burying  her  old  friend  herself.  Especially  my  aunt  Johanna." 

She  buried  him,  herself  the  only  mourner,!  And  sitting  down  in  the  sunshine,  with  hie 
on  a  bright  summer's  day,  with  the  sun  shi-|arms  upon  the  back  of  the  bench,  and  his  hand 
ning  dazzlingly  on  the  white  grave  stones  inj hiding  his  eyes,  the  poor  prodigal  listened  in 
Kensal  Green.  The  clergyman  appeared,  read  |silence  to  every  thing  Elizabeth  told  him;  of 
theservice,  andwentaway  again.  Afewmin-ihis  Aunt  Selina's  marriage  and  death,  and  of 
wtes  ended  it  all.     When  the  undertaker  and | Mr.  Lyon's  return,  and  o£the  happy  home  at 


his  men  had  also  departed,  she  sat  down  on  a 
bench  near  to  watch  the  sexton  filling  up  the 
grave — Tom's  graue.  She  was  very  quiet,  and 
none  but  a  closely  observant  person  watching 
her  face  could  have  penetrated  into  the  truth 


Liverpool. 

"  They  are  all  quite  happy,  then  ?"  said  he, 
at  length  ;  "they  seem  to  have  begun  to  pros- 
per ever  since  they  got  rid  of  me.  Well,  I'm 
glad  of  it.     I  only  wanted  to  hear  of  them  from 


of  what  your  impulsive  characters,  always  in;  you.  I  shall  never  trouble  them  anymore, 
the  extremes  of  mirth  or  misery,  never  under-!  You'll  keep  my  secret,  I  know.  And  now  I 
stand  about  quiet  people,  that  "still  waters' must  go,  for  I  have  not  a  minute  more  to 
run  deep."  jspare.    Good-by,  Elizabeth." 

While  she  sat  there  some,  one  came  past  With  a  humility  and  friendliness,  strange 
her,  and  turned  round.  It  was  the  shabby-lenough  in  Ascott  Leaf,  he  held  out  his  hand 
looking  chemist's  assistant,  who  had  appeared! — empty,  for  he  had  nothing  to  give  now — to 
at  the  inquest,  and  given  the  satisfactory  evi-ihis  aunt's  old  servant.  But  Elizabeth  detain- 
dence  which  had  prevented  the  necessity  of  herled  him. 
giving  hers.  "  Don't  go,  Sir,  please,  don't ;  not  just  yet." 

Elizabeth  rose  and  acknowledged  him  with  And  then  she  added,  with  an  earnest  respeol- 
a  respectable  courtesy  ;  for  undei  his  thread-  fulness  that  touched  the  heart  of  the  poor, 


bare  clothes  was  the  bearing  of  a  gentleman, 
and  he  had  been  so  kind  to  Tom. 

"  I  am  too  late,"  he  said  ;  "  the  funeral  is 
over.  I  meant  to  have  attended  it,  and  seen 
the  last  of  the  poor  fellow." 

"  Thank  you,  Sir,"  replied  Elizabeth,  grate- 
fully. 

The  young  man  stood  before  her,  looking  at 
her  earnestly  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  then 
exclaimed,  with  a  complete  change  of  voice 
and  manner, 

"  Elizabeth,  don't  you  know  me  ?  What 
has  become  of  my  aunt  Johanna  ?" 

It  was  Ascott  Leaf. 

But  no  wonder  Elizabeth  had  not  recogni- 
zed him.  His  close  cropped  hair,  his  large 
beard  hiding  half  his  face,  and  a  pair  of  spec- 
tacles which  he  had  assumed,  were  a  sufficient 
disguise.  Besides,  the  great  change  from  his 
former  "  dandy"  appearance  to  the  extreme  of 
shabbiness :  his  clothes  being  evidently  worn 
as  long  as  they  could  possibly  hold  together, 


was  not  a  bad  fel- 

I  think  ;  and  I  was 

help  him   a  little. 


shabby  man,  "  I  hope  you'll  pardon  the  liberty 
I  take.  I'm  only  a  servant,  but  I  knew  you 
when  you  were  a  boy,  Mr.  Leaf:  and  if  you 
would  trust  me,  if  you  would  let  me  be  of  use  to 
you  in  any  way — if  only  because  you  were  so 
so  good  to  him  there." 

"Poor  Tom  Cliffe;  he 
low  ;  he  liked  me  rather, 
able  to   doctor  him  and 
Heigh-ho ;  it's  a  comfort  to  think  I  ever  did 
any  good  to  any  body." 

Ascott  sighed,  drew  his  rusty  coat  sleeve* 
across  his  eyes,  and  6at  contemplating  hi* 
boots,  which  were  any  thing  but  dandy  boots 
now. 

"Elizabeth,  what  relation  was  Tom  to  you? 
If  I  had  known  you  were  acquainted  with  him 
I  should  have  been  afraid  to  go  near  him  ;  but 
I  felt  sure,  though  became  from  Stowbury,  he 
did  not  guess  who  I  was  ;  he  only  knew  me  as 
Mr.  Smith  ;  and  he  never  once  mentioned  you. 
Was  he  your  cousin,  or  what?" 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


119 


Elizabeth  considered  a  moment,  and  thenjhad  paid  the  cost  of  his  sin  in  bitter  suffering; 
told  the  simple  tact ;  it  could  not  matter  now.  J  but  the  result  was  cheaply  bought,  and  he  al- 

"  I  was  once  going  to  be  married  to  him,  ready  began  to  feel  that  it  was  so. 
but  he  saw   somebody  he  liked  better,   and      "Yes,"  said  he,  in  answer  to  a  question  of 


1  really  am, 
I  used  to  be. 


for  some  things, 
I  feel  more  like 


saw   someooay  ne  iiKea  oetter,   ana         i  es,    sai 
married  her.''  Elizabeth's, 

"  Poor  girl ;  poor  Elizabeth  '!"  happier  than 

Perhaps  nothing  could  have  shown  the  great  what  I  was  in  the  old  days,  when  I  was  a  lit- 
chauge  in  Ascott  more  than  the  tone  in  which  tie  chap  at  Stowbury.  Poor  old  Stow  bury  !  1 
he  uttered  these  words  ;  a  tone  of  entire  re6-  often  think  of  the  place  in  a  way  that's  per- 
pect  and  kindly  pity,  from  which  he  never  jfectly  ridiculous.  Still,  if  any  thing  happened 
once  departed  during  that  conversation,  and  >  to  me,  I  should  like  my  aunts  to  know  it,  and 
many,  many  others,  so  long  as  their  confiden-  that  I  didn't  forget  them." 
dential  relations  lasted.  "  But,  Sir,"  asked  Elizabeth  earnestly,  "  do 

"  Now,  Sir,  would  you  be  so  kind  as  to  tell  you  never  mean  to  go  near  your  aunts  again  ?" 
me  something  about  yourself  ?  I'll  not  repeat:  "I  can't  say;  it  all  depends  upon  circum- 
any  thing  to  your  annts,  if  you  don't  wish  it." 'Stances.     I  suppose,"  he  added,  "  if,  as  is  said, 

Ascott  yielded.     He  had  been  so  long,  so 'one's  sin  is  sure  to  find  one  out,  the  same  rule 


utterly  forlorn.  He  sat  down  beside  Eliza- 
beth, and  then,  with  eyes  often  averted,  and 
with  many  breaks  between,  which  she  had  to 
rill  up  as  best  as  she  could,  he  told  her  all  his 
story,  even  to  the  sad  secret  of  all,  which  had 
caused  him  to  run  away  from  home,  and  hide 
himself  in  the  last  place  where  they  would 
have  thought  he  was,  the  safe  wilderness  of 
London.     There,  carefully  disguised,  he  had 


goes  by  contraries.  It  seems  poor  Cliffe  once 
spoke  of  me  to  a  district  visitor,  the  only  vis- 
itor he  ever  had ;  and  this  gentleman,  hearing 
of  the  inquest,  came  yesterday  to  inquire  about 
him  of  me ;  and  the  end  was  that  he  offered 
me  a  situation  with  a  person  he  knew,  a  very 
respectable  chemist  in  Tottenham  Court 
Road." 
"  And  shall  you  go  ?" 


lived  decently  while  his  money  lasted,  andj  "To  be  sure.  I've  learned  to  be  thankful 
then,  driven  step  by  step  to  the  brink  of  des-  for  small  mercies.  Nobody  will  find  me  out. 
titution,  he  had  offered  himself  for  employ-jor  recognize  me.  You  didn't.  Who  knows? 
ment  in  the  lowest  grade  of  his  own  profession,  I  may  even  have  the  honor  of  dispensing  drugs 
and  been  taken  as  assistant  by  the  not  over-  to  Uncle  A6cott  of  Russell  Square." 
scrupulous  chemist  and  druggist  in  that  not!  "  But,  said  Elizabeth,  after  a  pause,  "you 
too  respectable  neighborhood  of  Westminster,  will  not  always  remain  as  John  Smith,  drug- 
with  a  salary  of  twenty  pounds  a  year.  (gist's  shopman,  throwing  away  all  your  good 

"And  1  actually  live  upon  it!"  added  he,!  education,  position,  and  name?" 
with  a  bitter  smile.  "I  can't  run  into  debt;1  "Elizabeth,"  eaid  he,  in  a  humbled  tone, 
for  who  would  trust  me  ?  And  I  dress  in  rags"  how  dare  I  ever  resume  my  own  name  and 
almost,  as  you  see.  And  I  get  my  meals  howiget  back  my  rightful  position  while  Peter  As> 
and  where  I  can  ;  and  I  sleep  under  the  shop,cott  lives  ?  Can  you  or  any  body  point  out  a 
counter.    A  pretty  life  for  Mr.  Ascott  Leaf, 'way?" 


isn't  it  now  ?  What  would  my  aunts  say  if 
they  knew  it  V" 

"They  would  say  that  it  was  an  honest  life, 
and  that  they  were  not  a  bit  ashamed  of  you." 

Ascott  drew  himself  up  a  little,  and  his  chest 
heaved  visibly  under  the  close  buttoned,  thread 
bare  coat. 

"  Well,  at  least,  it  is  a  life  that  makes  no- 
body else  miserable." 

Ay,  that  wonderful  teacher,  Adversity. 

"  Which,  like  the  toad,  ugly  ami  venomous, 
Wears  jet  a  precious  jewel  iu  its  head," 


She  thought  the  question  over  in  her  clear 
head;  clear  still,  even  at  this  hour,  when  she 
had  to  think  for  others,  though  all  personal 
feeling  and  interest  were  buried  in  that  grave 
over  which  the  sexton  was  now  laying  the  turf 
that  would  soon  grow  smoothly  green. 

"  If  I  might  advise,  Mr.  Leaf,  I  should  say, 
save  up  all  your  money,  and  then  go,  just  as 
you  are,  with  an  honest,  bold  front,  right  into 
my  master's  house,  with  the  fifty  pounds  in 
your  hand — " 

"  By  .love,  you've  hit  it !"  cried  Ascott,  start- 


ling up.  "  What  a  thing  a  woman's  head  is  ! 
had  left  behind  this  jewel  in  the  young  man's:  I've  turned  over  scheme  alter  scheme,  but  ] 
heart.     A  disguised,  beggaied  outcast,  he  had<never  once  thought  of  any  thing  so  simple  as 


found  out  the  value  of  an  honest  name;  forsa- 
ken, unfriended,  he  had  learned  the  precious- 
uees  of  home  and  love  ;  made  a  servant  of,  tyr- 


that.    Bravo.  Elizabeth  !  You're  a  remarkable 
woman." 

She  smiled — a  verv  sad  smile — but  still  she 


annized  over,  and  held  in  low  esteem,  he  had! felt  glad.  Any  thing  that  she  could  possibly 
been  taught  by  hard  experience  the  secret  of  do  for  any  creature  belonging  to  her  dear  mis- 
true  humility  and  charity — the  esteeming  of  tresses  seemed  to  this  faithful  servant  the  nat- 
others  better  than  himself.  jural  and  bounden  duty  of  her  life. 

Not   with  all  natures  does  misfortune   soi     Long  after  the  young  man,  whose  mercurial 
work,  but  it  did  with  his.    He  had  sinned  :  he! temperament  no  trouble  could  repress,  had 


120 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


gone  away  in  excellent  spirits,  leaving  her  an  young  man  wanting  to  speak  to  master  on  par- 
address  where  6he  could  always  find  him,  and  ticular  business, 
give  him  regular  news  of  his  aunts,  though  he1     "  Let  him  send  in  his  name." 
made  her  promise  to  give  them,  as  yet,  no  ti-      "  He  says  you  wouldn't  know  it,  .Sir." 
dings  in  return,  Elizabeth  sat  still,  watching!     ''Show  him  in,  then.     Probably  a  case  of 
the  sun  decline  and  the  shadows  lengthen  over  charity,  as  usual.     Oh  I" 
the  field  of  graves.     In  the  calmness  and  beau-|     And  Mr.  Ascott's  opinion  was  confirmed  by 
ty  of  this  solitary  place  an  equal  calm  seemed  the  appearance  of  the  shabby  young  man  with 
to  come  over  her  ;  a  sense  of  how  wondertullylthe  long  beard,  whom  Elizabeth  did  not  won- 
events   had  linked  themselves  together  and  der  he  never  recognized  in  the  least 
worked  themselves  out ;  how  even  poor  Tom's      She  ought  to  have  retired,  and  yet  she  could 
mournful  death  had  brought  about  this  meet-  not.     She  hid  herself^partly  behind  the  door, 


afraid  of  passing  Ascott ;  dreading  alike  to 
wound  him  by  recognition  or  non-recognition. 
But  he  took  no  notice.  He  seemed  excessive- 
ly agitated. 

"  Come  a-begging,  young  man,  I  suppose  ? 
Wanted  situation,  as  hundreds  do,  and  think 
that  I'have  half  the  clerkships  in  the  city  at 


ing,  which  might  end  in  restoring  to  her  be- 
loved mistresses  their  los,t  sheep,  their  outcast, 
miserable  boy.  She  did  not  reason  the  matter 
out,  but  she  felt  it,  and  felt  that  in  making  her 
in  some  degree  His  instrument  God  had  been 
very  good  to  her  in  the  midst  of  her  desola- 
tion. 

It  seemed  Elizabeth's  lot  always  to  have  to' my  disposal,  ami  that  I  am  made  of  money 
put  aside  her  own  troubles  for  the  trouble  of  besides.  But  it's  no  good,  I  tell  you,  Sir;  J 
somebody  else.  Almost  immediately  after  never  give  nothing  tostrangers,  except — Here, 
Tom  Cliffe's  death  her  little  Henry  fell  ill  Henry,  my  eon,  take  that  person  there  this 
with  scarlatina  and  remained  for  many  months  half  crown." 

in  a  state  of  health  so  fragile  as  to  engross  alll  And  the  little  boy,  in  his  pretty  purple  vel- 
her  thought  and  care.  It  was  with  difficulty  vet  frock  and  his  prettier  face,  trotted  across 
that  she  contrived  a  few  times  to  go  for  Hen-  the  room  and  put  the  money  into  poor  Ascott's 
ry's  medicines  to  the  shop  where  "John  hand.  He  took  it ;  and  then  to  the  astonish- 
Smrth"  served.  ment  of  Master  Henry,  and  the  still  greater 

She  noticed  that  every  timehelookedhealth-iastonishment  of  his  father,  lifted  up  the  child 
ier,  brighter,  freer  from  that  aspect  of  broken-land  kissed  him. 
down  respectability  which  had  touched  hersOj     "  Young  man,  voung  fellow- 


much.  He  did  not  dress  any  better,  but  still 
"  the  gentleman"  in  him  could  never  be  hid- 
den or  lost,  ami  he  said  his  master  treated  him 
"  like  a  gentleman,"  which  was  apparently  a 
pleasant  novelty. 

"  I  have  some  time  to  myself  also. 
shuts  at  nine,  and  I  get  up  at  5  a.  ?.i.- 
us !  what  would  my  Aunt  Hilary  say  ? 
it's  not   for   nothing.     There  are  more 


I  see  you  don't  know  me,  Mr.  Ascott,  and 
it's  not  surprising.  But  I  have  come  to  repay 
you  this — "  he  laid  a  fifty  pound  note  down  on 
the  table.  "  Also,  to  thank  you  earnestly  for 
not  prosecuting  me,  and  to  say — " 

"Good  God  I" — the  sole  expletive  Peter  As- 

blesscott  had  been  heard  to  use  for  long.     "  Ascott 

AndjLeaf,  is  that  you?     I  thought  you  were  in 

ways  I  Australia,  or  dead,  or  something." 


Shop 


than  one  of  turning  an  honest  penny,  when  a  "  No,  I'm  alive  and  here,  more's  the  pity 
young  fellow  really  sets  about  it.  Elizabeth,  perhaps.  Except  that  I  have  lived  to  pay  you 
you  used  to  be  a  literary  character  yourself :  back  what  I  cheated  you  out  of.  What  you 
look  into  the and  the ,"  (naming  two, generously  gave  me  I  can't  pay,  though  I  un- 
popular magazines),  and  if  you  find  a  series  of  sometime.  Meantime,  I  have  brought  you 
especially  clever  papers  on  sanitary  reform,  this.     It's  honestly  earned.     Yes,"  observing 

the  keen  doubtful  look," though  I  have  hard- 
ly a  coat  to  my  back,  I  assure  you  it's  hon- 
estly earned." 

Mr.  Ascott  made  no  reply.  He  stooped 
over  the  bank-note,  examined  it,  folded  it,  and 
put  it  into  his  pocket-book  ;  then,  after  anoth- 
er puzzled  investigation  of  Ascott.  cleared  his 
It  was  on  a  snowv  February  day,  when,  throat, 
having  brought  the  child  home  quite  strong,.  "Mrs.  Hand,  you  had  better  take  Master 
and  received  unlimited  gratitude  and  guineas; Henry  up  stairs." 

from  the  delighted  father,  Master  Henry's  An  hour  alter,  when  little  Henry  had  long 
faithful  nurse  stood  in  her  usual  place  at  the  been  sound  asleep,  and  she  was  sitting  at  her 
dining-room  door,  waiting  tor  the  intermiha-  usual  evening  sewing  in  her  solitary  nursery, 
ble  grace  of  "  only  five  minutes  more"  to  be  Elizabeth  learned  that  the  "shabby  young 
over,  and  her  boy  carried  ignominiously  but  man"  was  still,  in  the  dining-room   with  Mr. 

Ascott,  who  had  rung  (or  tea,  and  some  cold 


and  so  on,  I  did  em  :" 

He  slapped  his  chest  with  Ascott's  merry 
laugh  of  old.  It  cheered  Elizabeth  for  a  long 
while  afterward. 

By-and-by  she  had  to  take  little  Henry  to 
Brighton,  and  lost  sight  of  "  John  Smith"  for 
some  time  longer 


contentedly  to  bed 

The  footman   knocked  at  the  door. 


meat  with  it.     And  the  footman  stated,  with 


MISTRESS  AND  MAID. 


? 


i  amazement,  that  the  shabby  young  was  gone  to  bed,  she  stoodat  the  nursery  win- 
i.i  m  •  !  actually  sitting  at  the  same  table  dow.  looking  down  upon  the.  trees  of  the 
with  master!  squatie,  that  stretched  their  motionless  arms 

Elizabeth    smiled  to  herself  and    held   her  up  into  the  moonlight  sky — just  such  a  moon- 
Now,   a9  ever,  -he  always  kept  the  light  as  it  was  once,   more  than   three  years 
Mcrets  of  the  family.  ago,  the  night    tittle   Henry  was  born.     Ant 

About  ten  o'clock  she  was  summoned  to  the  she  recalled  all  the  past,  from  the  day  whet 
dining  room.  Miss  Hilary  hung  up    her  bonnet  for  her  i 

re  stood  Peter  Ascott,  pompous  is  ever,  the  house-place  at  Stowbury  ;   the  dreary  li 
but  with  a  cerium  kindly  good-humor  lighten-  at  No.  l-r>  :  the  Sunday  nights  when  she 
ing  up  his  heavy  face,  looking  eondescendingly'Tom  Cliffe  used  to  go   wandering  round  an 

•and    him,    and    occasionally   rubbing    his  round  the  square. 
hand-  slowly  together,   aj  if  he  were  exceed-       "Poor  Tom,"  said  she  to  herself,  thinking 
ing'.y  well  pleased  with  himself.     There  stood  of  A-c ott   Leaf,  and  how  happy  he  had  looked, 
ill  Leaf,  looking  bright  and  handsome,  in  and  how  happy  his  aunts  would  be  to-morrow, 
spite  of  and  quite  at   his  ease  "  Well,   Tom    would  be  glad   too,  if  he  knew 

-  —  which  small  peculiarity  was  never  likely  to  &H.  ' 

I  ?  knocked  out  of  him  under  the titost  depress-       Li;',  happy'  as  every  body   was,  there  was 
circumstances.  othing  so  close   to  Elizabeth's  heart  as  the 

He  shook  hand-  with  Elizabeth  warmly.       one  grave  over  which  the  snow  was  now  lyi 
••  I  wanted  i<>  ask  you  if  you  have  any  mes-  white  and  peaceful,  out  at  Keusal  Green. 
■  for  (jiverpool.      !  go  there  to-morrow  on 
I   i-iuess  for  Mr.  Ascott,  and  afterward  1  shall 

ably  go  and  see  my  aunts."  He  faltered  Elizabeth  is  still  living — which  is  a  gre 
;i  moment,  hut  quickly  shook  the  emotion  off.  blessing;  for  nobody  could  well  do  without  he 
'•■)[  I   shall  tell   them  all  about  yqu,  She  will  probably  attain  a  good  old  age  ;  bein 

ibeth.     Any  special  message,  eh  ?"  .healthy  and-strong.,  very    equable  in  tempt 

••  ( hiiy  my  duty.  Sir,  and  Master  Henry  is  now,  and  very  cheerful  too,  in  her  quiet  wa> 
quite  well   again."  said   Elizabeth,  formally, jDoubtless,  she  will   yet   have  Master  Henry  > 
and  droppiug  her  old-fashioned  courtesy;  at- children  climbing  her  knees,  and  calling  !.-■;■ 
t  ■  -  which,  as  quickly  as  she  could,  she  slipped |"  Mammy  Lizzie." 

oiu  of  the  dining-room.  But  she  will  ^ever  marry — She  never  h, .  ol 

P>  it,  long,   long  after,  wlien  all  the    houseiany  body  but  T  om. 


THE  £NJ>, 


j^tt^ 


\ 


J 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 
289 


